


The Space Between

by alasse



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Brian is still an asshole, But a little less jaded, F/F, Friends to Lovers, He's Brian Kinney for fuck's sake, M/M, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alasse/pseuds/alasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian and Justin meet while they’re both in college. Their first meeting is cut short by a crisis, and instead of having sex, they end up becoming friends and roommates. But were they meant to be just friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> Brian and Justin's age difference is only three-four years in this story - in order for them to meet in college, Brian is a senior and Justin a freshman.
> 
> Written for NaNoWriMo in 2007, originally posted on lj [here](http://alasse.livejournal.com/45740.html). Title from Dave Matthews Band.

They were never meant to be just friends. 

The first time they met, Justin saw Brian coming out of Babylon one night, looking fucking beautiful, fucking dangerous, and just fucking _right_. Brian crossed the street and spoke to Justin, who looked like a cliché sports drink ad leaning against a lamp post. They flirted, exchanged charged banter, and ate each other up with their eyes; it was a perfect beginning to what heralded to be the best fuck, the first fuck, in Justin’s life. And yet, it ended up being the beginning to the fuck that never was.

The story of that night was recounted now as an epic tale of how the universe could conspire against the best laid plans of mice and fags looking to get laid. 

Justin could always tell when it was coming, because Michael got a particular look on his face, and said, “Well, the craziest story I’ve ever heard…”. Brian seemed to have a sixth sense for when the story was about to be told, because he was always conveniently away, fucking a trick or getting a drink, or both. So it fell to Justin to fake a smile and roll his eyes while his friends rehashed the fateful night when Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor met, almost fucked, didn’t, and became roommates.

+

Justin walked down Liberty Avenue, trying hard to look aloof and knowledgeable. However, it was hard to act cool and unconcerned when guys kept brushing past and fondling his ass, all the while staring at him like his aunt Millie stared at bread when on her “no carbs ever again” diet. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being a piece of bread. He wasn’t liking it too much so far. 

He took a cigarette he’d tucked on top of his ear and lit it, taking a deep drag to calm down. He suddenly noticed his white Nike sneakers looked ridiculously out of place; Daphne had been right, he should have picked another outfit. Regardless of his sinking realization about unsuitable wardrobe choices, Justin had to keep going, because he was a man on a mission: he was going to fuck. He was eighteen years old, for fuck’s sake! 

Starting college while being a virgin, and all the horrible teasing and teenage angst it could bring on, was the subject matter of so many movies, people thought it wasn’t real. But it was. It really was. And Justin was _done_ with the angst, and the wondering, and the non-committal shrug when people asked about his first time. So tonight, come hell or high water, or, you know, an irrational fear of people wearing what seemed to be leather thongs and brandishing riding crops, Justin was going to meet a guy and fuck. 

He took in the names of different bars and clubs: Meat Hook, Boy Toy, The Adonis, The Gravel Pitt. Nothing sounded particularly attractive, and most of them sounded downright scary. I mean, who the hell names a bar Meat Hook? Plus, the creepy people with the leather and the riding crops all seemed to be heading that way, so walking in the opposite direction seemed like the best idea. A bit disappointed, Justin walked up to a lamppost and leaned against it. He glanced up and noticed a bright, neon sign that read ‘Babylon’, and since it sounded somewhat decent, he decided to go in after having a breather. Whatever plans he might have had changed the moment he saw _him_ walking out the door of the club. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out. And hoped like hell the guy would head his way and take his word.

+

“Brian, hurry up! It’s almost two, and I promised my mom I’d get home early,” Michael admonished, half-dragging Brian out of the backroom. “And you have a test tomorrow!”

“Mikey, you know I do my best work after a good fuck,” Brian said, buttoning his jeans. “If I fail tomorrow, it’ll be all your fault.”

Michael snorted, brushing a tweaked twink off Brian. “Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?”

“Well, because a mediocre blowjob won’t make me do my best work, now, will it?” asked Brian, raising an eyebrow. He gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m gonna have to go find that closet jock who lives in the room across from mine and fuck him, and he’ll start thinking he’s a better fuck than he actually is.”

“My heart aches for you, it really does,” Michael answered, rolling his eyes. “You could also just go to sleep when you get to the dorms, wake up early, and study.”

Brian stared at him in horror, and then grinned. “Good one, Mikey.”

They collected their jackets and made their way outside. Brian was walking down the stairs when something made him look across the street. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. A blond guy was leaning against the lamppost, staring at him, almost as if he was waiting for him. Brian didn’t intend to keep him waiting any longer. He barely heard Michael’s “Briaaan!” as he crossed the street and came to a stop right in front of the guy.

“How’s it going? Had a busy night?” Brian asked, using the sexiest voice he could muster. Not that he needed a sexy voice. Brian was a twenty year old sex machine, and he knew he was the hottest thing to hit Liberty Avenue since, well, ever. But the sexy voice always made them drop to their knees faster.

“Just checking out the bars, you know?” the guy shrugged. He was so blond, and his eyes were so fucking blue, and Brian just _knew_ he had to fuck him, no matter what. “Boy Toy, Meat Hook…” the trick trailed off.

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing. “Meat Hook? Really?” He frowned slightly. “So you’re into leather?”

Brian saw the slight widening of the eyes, the faintest hint of hesitance, but it was hastily covered up with a raised chin and defiant, “Sure.” 

Fuck, this kid was hot!

“Where are you headed?” Brian finally asked. 

“No place special.”

“I can change that,” Brian promised confidently. The guy smiled, and Brian smirked. Unbeknownst to him, he’d just made a promise that would change both of their lives, forever. 

“I’m Justin,” the guy declared, holding his hand out.

Brian raised an eyebrow, but shook the proffered hand and replied, “Brian.” 

Brian directed his steps to his beat up, black Jeep, glancing behind him once to check that the blond trick, Justin, was following. He couldn’t wait to get him naked and in bed.

“Brian! I told you I needed to leave!” Michael caught up with him.

“I know what you told me. I was just picking up my study partner,” he explained, gesturing behind him.

Michael huffed. “Whatever. Let’s go, please.” He climbed into the passenger seat.

“Get in,” Brian told his guest. “We just need to drop the drama queen off, and we can get right to business.”

“I thought you said he was your study partner,” Michael grumbled.

“Business, study; potato, potato,” Brian shrugged, grinning in the direction of Justin, who was currently climbing in the backseat and displaying a wonderful view of his ass. Yep, it was gonna be a long, hard night. In the best sense of the words.

+

“Come on in,” Brian held the door open to his room. His dorm was in slightly better condition than others, because it was for honor students, but it was still a shitty, small room. Complete with an annoying roommate who finally knew better, after two long years, than to be around Friday night. Or Saturday night. Or any night Brian went out. 

“Nice room,” Justin offered. Brian saw him take in the unmade beds, the poster-covered walls, the books strewn around the floor, the soccer ball and gear exploding out of a tired, red duffel bag. 

“No it’s not,” Brian snorted. “But it does the trick,” he paused, licking his lips. “Pun intended.”

Justin rolled his eyes, but smiled. “No roommate?” he asked, glancing around. 

“Nope. He knows it’s best to find alternate lodging when I go out.”

Brian approached Justin, shedding his jacket and t-shirt along the way. He noticed Justin’s immediate response, the way his eyes traveled up and down his torso. Brian had a killer body, slim and defined, thanks to years of playing soccer and inadequate college food, and he used it to his advantage. “Aren’t you a little overdressed for the occasion?” he remarked, tongue in cheek.

Justin glanced down at himself, blushing faintly. He took off his blue windbreaker, but kept everything else on. Ah, an innocent, thought Brian. He leaned down to kiss Justin, and the kiss quickly escalated, as Brian brought Justin’s body closer, one of his hands clutching the hair at the back of his neck, the other trying to get rid of Justin’s button down shirt. Justin had enough presence of mind to help Brian get his white t-shirt off, but he wasn’t good for much else the moment Brian shoved a hand down his jeans and started stroking his dick. 

“Fuck, Brian,” Justin moaned.

“In a minute, in a minute,” Brian breathed out. He started walking Justin backwards in the direction of his bed, never breaking off stroking his dick or kissing him. When Justin’s knees hit the bed, Brian went with him, lying on top of him. Brian licked Justin’s neck, nibbled his ear, but he soon needed more, more. He stood up for a second, and Justin whimpered, looking at Brian with questioning eyes.

“Need to get these off,” Brian explained, quickly taking off his jeans and leaning down to get Justin’s off as well. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. Justin blushed again, and Brian fought a smile. It had been awhile since he’d had sex with someone who still blushed. 

Brian sat on top of Justin’s knees, and started jerking him off again. “So what do you like to do?” he asked.

“Um… well, I love to draw, I’m an Art major,” Justin started.

“In bed,” Brian clarified, cutting him off. 

“This… this is good,” came the hesitant answer.

Brian began to get suspicious. 

“Do you like to rim?”

“Uh, sure, I love it!” Justin exclaimed quickly. 

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Then get to it.”

Justin bit his lip. Yep, Brian’s suspicions were confirmed. The kid had to be a virgin. He decided to give him a very hands-on explanation of what rimming was, but before he could do so, his cell phone started ringing. “Fuck.” He started digging through the rumpled bedding until he found his jeans and got the phone out of his pocket. 

“Yeah?” he answered.

_“Brian, you have to come to Allegheny General **now**.”_

“What’s wrong, Mikey?” he asked, unaware that his voice trembled slightly.

_“It’s Vic.”_

“Be there in a few.” He hung up, and got off Justin. “You have to go,” he told him.

“Why?” Justin asked, sitting up and looking bewildered.

“Family emergency,” Brian answered curtly, putting his jeans back on. “Have to go to the hospital.”

“I- I can’t go back to my dorm right now.”

“Why the fuck not? I’ll call you a cab or something,” Brian said, putting on a black wifebeater that smelled fairly clean. 

“My roommate, he said I couldn’t come back tonight... his girlfriend’s in town,” Justin explained, shrugging apologetically. “And I can’t go home, my parents would kill me. Can’t I just go with you?”

Brian stopped zipping his jacket up and stared at him. Ah, what the hell. 

“Fine.”

 

 

+

Brian was completely silent on the drive to the hospital. Justin couldn’t tell if he was worried, or pissed off, or both. It was probably both. He felt a bit guilty at having to tag along, but Chris had made it abundantly clear he would kick Justin’s ass if he dared show up to their room tonight, and quite frankly, Chris scared the fuck out of Justin. The guy was really unhinged, and what the hell was he doing in the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts of all places? He belonged in a construction crew or something. 

Justin glanced at Brian, taking in his profile. Fuck, he was gorgeous. His hand was itching to grab a pencil and paper and start sketching. He couldn’t believe a guy who looked like that had been interested in him. The kisses and the hand job had been amazing, but Justin really wished he could’ve gotten fucked, too. 

Brian drove quite quickly, running a few red lights, so after a surprisingly short time, Allegheny General Hospital came into view. They pulled into the parking lot, and Brian got out of the car, walking quickly to the entrance. Justin ran a bit to catch up with him. They made their way to the Emergency Room, and Justin saw Michael pacing in the waiting room. 

“Mikey,” Brian called out. Michael saw Brian and went to him immediately, hugging him hard. Brian held him patiently, saying nothing. After a few minutes, Michael pulled back, and Justin saw his eyes were red-rimmed. 

“He’s in critical condition. He just – collapsed.”

Brian nodded, brushing the tears away from Michael’s cheek. “Where’s Deb?” 

Michael pointed to the reception desk, where Justin noticed a red-headed woman filling out forms. Brian headed towards her, and Justin stayed behind next to Michael, an awkward silence between them. He still wasn’t sure what was happening. 

“Do you need anything?” he asked Michael.

Michael glared at him, but when he realized Justin meant it, his eyes softened and he said, “Some coffee would be great.”

Justin nodded. He walked up to Brian and the red-headed woman, and managed to catch some of their conversation.

“He’s not doing well, Brian. Not well at all. If he doesn’t make it through tonight… I think he- he…”

“He’ll make it, Deb. He’s tough.” Brian put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, squeezing it briefly. 

Justin took advantage of the momentary silence. “Um, sorry to interrupt, but I’m getting Michael some coffee. Do you need anything?” he asked. 

Brian shook his head, but the woman looked at him for a moment before giving him a watery smile. “You’re just gorgeous, darling. What’s your name?”

“Justin,” he replied, wondering why she hadn’t asked _who_ he was. Maybe Brian brought by random tricks all the time. The thought didn’t settle too well with Justin, but he refused to analyze why. 

“Well, Justin, I’m Deb, and I’d love some coffee, too.”

Justin turned around, but he stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Make sure you get her decaf,” Brian whispered into his ear. 

Justin smiled in understanding. 

+

They sat in the pale green waiting room for three hours before a doctor came out to talk to them. Justin had managed to find some paper and he’d stolen a pencil from the grumpy nurse in the admissions desk, so he entertained himself sketching, trying to ignore how the uncomfortable plastic chair was digging into his back. Deb spent her time re-checking the forms and constantly reassuring Michael, in a way that made Justin certain she was actually reassuring herself. Michael had gone to the vending machine and gotten himself hooked up with a bunch of chocolates, cookies, and potato chip bags, and was stress-eating his way through everything. Brian simply stared blankly at the wall in front of them and said nothing the whole time. 

Justin wondered what he was thinking; he wondered if Brian was reading the poster recommending people cover their mouths when they sneeze, or if he was lost in his own complicated mess of thoughts. It was such a surreal situation, being in a waiting room with Brian, breathing in antiseptic and worry. Justin had never imagined this is how his evening would go when he first stepped into Liberty Avenue.

“Mrs. Novotny?” a doctor was standing in front of them. Justin could tell he was absolutely worn out, his lab coat was rumpled and there were rings around his eyes.

“That’s me,” Debbie answered quickly, standing up. Brian stood up as well, and Michael dropped the Mars Bar he was eating on the seat next to him. 

“Your brother is stable enough for us to move him to the Intensive Care Unit. I’m not sure yet how long he’ll have to stay there, but it may be a while,” the doctor informed Debbie, giving Brian and Michael a quick glance.

“Oh, fuck. Thank fucking God,” Debbie whispered, drying her eyes with a tissue “Can I see him?” she asked hopefully.

“Visits in the ICU are tightly controlled. You can see him in half an hour, once he’s settled in, but you can only visit him for fifteen minutes.”

“I understand,” Debbie said, voice shaking slightly. “And, doctor? Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” the doctor gave her a small smile. 

“So why did he collapse like that?” Brian asked the doctor, before he turned to leave.

The doctor frowned, and looked at Debbie questioningly. She nodded slightly, and he finally replied, “It was a series of infections… HIV-related infections.”

Justin heard Michael’s gasp, saw Brian clench his jaw. Debbie seemed strangely unsurprised. 

Brian turned to her. “You knew?”

“Yes,” Debbie admitted. “That’s why he came back.”

“But – but why didn’t you tell us?” Michael asked.

“It wasn’t my place. Sharing this with you was Vic’s decision,” she explained. “I think he wanted to wait. Telling me was hard enough.”

Michael hugged Debbie, and Brian put his hands on her shoulders. Justin finally understood why Brian had told him this was a family crisis. Michael, Debbie, Debbie’s brother… they were Brian’s family. This visit to the hospital had brought out a strange softness in Brian, a softness that had been completely lacking in their interaction before the phone call. Brian had been a predator, and Justin a very, very willing prey. But now, Brian was just a guy, a guy who was worried about someone he loved.

“Michael, baby, you should go home. You too, Brian. You have an exam tomorrow!” Debbie said after a moment, pulling back from the embrace.

“It’s okay, Deb. I can stay,” Brian said quietly.

“The fuck you will. You’re gonna go back to your dorm, you’re gonna sleep for an hour and then wake up and ace that fucking test, you hear me?” she admonished Brian, shaking a finger at him.

“I hear you,” Brian answered, the corner of his mouth lifting a bit. “Come on, Mikey. I’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks, Brian, but I’m staying.” Debbie opened her mouth. “And don’t argue, Ma. You need me here.” 

Brian nodded, and he hugged them both goodbye. Justin gave Michael a pat on the back, and he was about to kiss Debbie goodbye when she crushed him in a strong embrace before he knew what was happening. 

“Thanks for being here, Sunshine,” she whispered in Justin’s ear. 

Sunshine? Where did that come from? He smiled at her, and followed Brian out of the hospital.

They both stood outside the hospital doors, smoking. Somewhere around the second hour they’d been in the hospital, Justin had hoped they would still fuck. If the news turned out to be good, it was possible they’d fuck out of relief and gratitude, or something. But finding out Debbie’s brother had HIV had taken away any such illusions. Brian was somber, and Justin saw how his hands shook every time he brought the cigarette to his mouth. 

“Want to go take a walk by the river?” Justin asked, fully expecting to be blown off with a grunt. 

But to his surprise, Brian nodded, and led the way.

Dawn was beginning to break, and it struck Justin in a way that it never had before how the most terrible things in life, the worst news, coexisted with the perfect beauty of something as simple and natural as the sun rising by a river. 

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Justin asked.

“Vic’s a fighter. He’s one of the strongest men I know. If there’s anyone who can make it…” Brian trailed off. 

Justin nodded in understanding. He breathed in the chilly air, absurdly grateful that he was healthy, that there was no disease biding its time in his blood, waiting to crumble him. Yes, tonight had been absolutely different from what he’d expected, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d met Brian, and he had a feeling the man next to him had made a strange exception in allowing Justin to come to the hospital with him. Justin felt so comfortable with him, as if he’d found something he’d always been looking for without knowing it.

Brian suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence that hung between them. “So you successfully avoided your breeder roommate for the night. Sorry it was such a drama filled evening.”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Justin told him quickly, giving him a small smile. “You saved me from the wrath of the unhinged straight guy, and from an unwanted look at him fucking his girlfriend.” 

“Ugh.” Brian shuddered with distaste. “He sounds like a horrible roommate. Are you a freshman?”

“Yep, just started at the Institute of Fine Arts.”

“Wow.” Brian raised his eyebrows. “That’s a great school. You must be really good.”

Justin blushed at the praise, and felt furious with himself for acting like a pre-teen girl with a crush. “I’m alright. Carnegie Mellon is really good, too. What’s your major?”

“Marketing and Advertising,” Brian replied.

Justin was suddenly struck with the oddness of the conversation. He felt like he was going backwards. Brian had kissed him, jerked him off and almost fucked him before Justin knew any of the mundane stuff you always found out about people first. 

“What year are you in?” he asked.

“Just started my junior year. Two years to go, can’t fucking wait to get out of school,” Brian said vehemently.

“Why?” 

“Well, you’re not the only one with crappy housing arrangements. Living in the honors dorm and having a scholarship means I get saddled with all these crappy activities and tours and shit,” Brian explained. “And my roommate is probably a closet fag, so naturally he’s a rampaging homophobe. The only reason he doesn’t give me any trouble is ‘cause the second day we roomed together, I kicked the shit outta him.” Justin stared at him with wide eyes. “He took issue with my porn collection,” Brian elaborated.

Justin laughed. He loved Brian’s self confidence in his sexuality. 

“So why are you still a virgin, _Sunshine_?” Brian asked suddenly, his tone curious and mocking at once.

Justin thought for a moment before answering. “I’m not sure, really. Not because I wanted to preserve my virtue, or something like that. It just never happened, you know? I wasn’t out in my old high school, and the Country Club isn’t the best place to pick up tricks.”

“You don’t say? I always thought WASP’s were wildcats in bed. All that repressed anger, the pressure to be so well-mannered and PC.”

“Shut up,” Justin laughed. He wondered if maybe Brian was right. He’d have to give the Country Club crowd a second chance.

They sat down on a bench, and Justin was struck with an idea as he watched Brian leaning back, eyes closed. He studied the classical profile, the straight nose leading down to beautiful lips, to perfect lips, really. Yes, Brian was very beautiful indeed, but tonight had shown him that there was much more to him than looks. He took a deep breath and decided to just ask what was on his mind.

“Brian?” 

“Hmm?” Brian hummed without opening his eyes.

“I have an idea. You can tell me it sucks and to fuck off and not bother you-”

“Out with it, Justin.” Brian interrupted his rambling, hazel eyes open and amused.

“Well, you hate your dorm and your roommate, right?” Brian just raised an eyebrow. “And I hate my dorm and my roommate. And you want to live off campus, and I do too, honestly. So, I was thinking… I don’t hate you, and I think we’ve gotten along, so what would you say if we shared an apartment?” Justin asked, looking at Brian expectantly.

“We’ve only known each other one night,” Brian pointed out.

“I know. And it may turn out we can’t stand each other and this is the worst idea ever, but I’m a really normal, clean guy… and I like you. I don’t usually like many people,” Justin shrugged.

Brian snorted. He examined Justin for a moment, and Justin felt sure he was going to turn him down. 

“Alright, Sunshine. You got yourself a new roommate.”

+

That’s how it happened. 

Two years later, Brian and Justin still lived together, and all the evidence said they _did_ stand each other, after all. In fact, they were pretty much best friends. Only, every once in a while, when Justin was stoned and drunk and just totally fucked up, he’d remember Brian’s kisses, from that first night. The way he’d touched him. He thought about what could’ve been. He wondered.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Brian woke up at an ungodly hour in the morning, and, as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, downing half a coffee pot with enough sugar poured in to lead to a diabetic coma, he looked toward Justin’s door with undisguised envy. The little twat got to sleep until eight in the morning, damn him. The fact that Brian was actually awake at five thirty, wearing track suit pants and abusing caffeine, made him wish he was an artist, too. Or that he’d chosen a more relaxed major. Or, actually, that he wasn’t the captain of the fucking soccer team. But all those wishes would have meant him not being Brian Kinney, because there was no way he could draw anything that looked better than retarded stick figures, and if he didn’t play soccer he wouldn’t have gotten a full scholarship.

With a resigned sigh, he put the coffee pot in the sink and headed to the refrigerator to collect a water bottle. A yellow sticky note on the metal door made him pause, and he fought a smile when he read: _“Mr. Captain: I feel extremely sorry for you, I know how horrible it must be to be awake at this hour. But console yourself! I’m sure all the hot cheerleaders will be there to cheer you up. And I don’t mean the female ones. Before you leave for your ‘crucial’ practice before the ‘big game’ (why the fuck are there so many big games, anyway? Is there ever a game that isn’t big?) please eat something. I made muffins last night. Hold the Sussie Homemaker remark, and just eat them, ok? J.”_

Brian shook his head, muttering, “Interfering blond twat.”

Still, right before leaving the kitchen, he took two muffins from the wicker basket on the counter. Justin was better at mothering him than Deb and Michael put together. He collected his school bag and duffel bag from where they lay haphazardly on the floor next to the door, and right before he left, he quickly doubled back into the kitchen and scribbled something down on the yellow sticky note, leaving it on top of one of the remaining muffins. 

+

“Run, Kinney! Get that ball! You aren’t allowed to slack off and be a fairy here, you’re the captain!” Coach Jenkins called out.

The soccer field was illuminated by the grayish, somewhat depressing light of dawn, the sky a murky white awaiting for the sun. The football team was trying to beat the grogginess and cold, and most of them were playing sluggishly, but, of course, it was Brian whom the Coach singled out.

“Fuck off, Jerkins,” Brian mumbled. 

He hated his coach with a passion, _hated_ every single badly concealed dig at his sexuality, the way he always gave him a hard time even though Brian was playing just fine. But Brian couldn’t quit, since his school career rode on kicking a ball around a muddy field, and the Coach couldn’t do without his star player, regardless of how queer he was. 

Thus, soccer practice was usually spent with Coach Jenkins yelling at Brian and Brian answering with ill-concealed scorn, more than once calling him ‘Coach Jerkins’ or something equally adolescent. Brian didn’t care about sounding adolescent, he hated the prick. He attempted to focus on something other than his homophobic coach, breathing deeply, taking in the burning of his muscles, blocking out everything he hated about his team and trying to enjoy playing, trying to enjoy the dodging, the long-kicks and the goals.

Finally, at seven thirty, the whistle blew and practice was over. Brian made his way to the locker room, visions of hot showers and coffee with an indecent amount of sugar dancing around his head. His path was suddenly blocked by a guy. 

“Excuse me,” Brian said, pissed off. 

The guy turned around, and eyed Brian from head to toe. 

“You’re excused,” he answered, in what he clearly took to be a seductive tone. 

Brian rolled his eyes, but examined the human road-block nonetheless. He was hot, actually, in that wholesome, male cheerleader kind of way. A blow-job and slippery fuck made their way into Brian’s visions. Ah, what the hell, he needed to blow off some steam. He grabbed the guy by the shirt and led the way to the showers. 

As he was fucking the guy, who was moaning and yelling encouragement with the most ridiculous voice, Brian decided Justin had an uncanny knack for prophecy. And that he’d never fuck a cheerleader again without stuffing something into his mouth. 

+

Brian practically skidded into the classroom, wincing at the loud sound of the door banging closed behind him. Everyone’s eyes were on him. So much for sneaking in quietly. 

“Mr. Kinney, how kind of you to join us,” Dr. Lowe, said, looking pointedly down at her watch. 

“Sorry, Dr. Lowe. Practice ran late,” Brian apologized, making his way to the back of the classroom.

“Yes, well, important as soccer may be, it’s no excuse to be late for this class.” She looked at him pointedly, but then gave him a faint smile. 

Brian liked Dr. Lowe, she wasn’t the typical flighty art teacher, but she was a lot more relaxed than Brian’s other teachers. Also, she probably had a crush on him. So Brian just nodded, and sat down next to Lindsay, who whispered, “ _Practice_ ran late? Since when is fucking part of soccer practice?”

“It’s the best way to relax after strenuous exercise, Linds, everybody knows that,” Brian answered, smirking. 

He bent down to take a pen and his notebook out of his backpack, and came across one of Justin’s drawing pencils. He made a mental note to give it back, Justin always freaked when one of his pencils was missing.

“Isn’t fucking strenuous exercise, too?” Lindsay asked pointedly, handing him the notes she’d taken so far. 

“Well, yeah. But it’s a good kind of strenuous,” Brian replied with a smirk. 

Lindsay rolled her eyes and gave him an indulgent smile.

Brian met Lindsay a few months after he started college. She was an Art History major, and since all students were “encouraged” to branch out and take elective classes in other fields, Brian had met her in ‘Art of the Stone Age’. At first, he’d really resented being forced to take the class by the bug-eyed, creepy career counselor, but meeting Lindsay had made the experience bearable. 

He’d sat down next to her because he wanted a seat in the back, and because she was the only other person in the room who didn’t look like an absolute weirdo, or like she was about to kill herself because she’d make a more interesting story in an Art Book. She’d turned to him, smiled, and offered him a bite of her Veggie Wrap. He knew she thought he was hot the second he knew she was probably as queer as him, and deep in denial. So he took a bite of the Veggie Wrap, and smiled at her. It was the beginning of a great, if somewhat fucked up, friendship. 

The fucked up part came from the one night when they’d both done E at some lame-ass Artsy party and ended up fucking in the room of a Pollock wannabe – the walls were all splattered with paint in the most horrible color combinations; for the sake of the world at large, Brian hoped the owner of the room stayed a wannabe forever. It was the strangest phase in their friendship. They fucked at random moments two or three more times, and one night, Lindsay turned to him and said, “I’m pretty sure I’m a lesbian.” Brian answered, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you are, too.” And that was that. They returned to being just friends.

Since then, they’d made their way together through ‘Art in Ancient Greece and Rome’, ‘Art in the Middle Ages’, and ‘Art in the Renaissance’. The current class they were busily not paying attention to was ‘Art in the Modern Age’, since Lindsay was once more deeply involved in another lesbian drama with Rebecca Tucci, and she was giving Brian the full report through a series of notes. 

Brian replied to most of them with, “Lesbians. Gag me.” or “Just find another muncher to munch.” Lindsay was not amused. 

+

“Oh, come on, you motherfuckin’ piece of shit! Start!” Brian growled at his Jeep. 

People walking past his car in the parking lot where beginning to stare, as if they’d never seen a guy have trouble with a car before. Brian consoled himself thinking they were staring because they’d probably never seen a guy as hot as him, not because he looked like a freak yelling. “Come the fuck on, before I do something drastic!” The engine sputtered to life. “Why must you always make me threaten you, huh? You into BDSM, you twisted fucker?” Brian sighed. 

He was talking to his car like it was a person again. A clear sign of exhaustion. He loved his black Jeep, he really did; he’d bought it on countless summers of working instead of having fun, and it meant independence to him. It meant getting away from the hell that the Kinney household had been, getting away from Jack’s punches and Joan’s words. Still, as he finally made his way to Liberty Avenue, Brian promised to himself that, one day, he’d be such a fucking success he’d be able to buy a brand new Jeep, fully loaded. And he’d drive by his old house, give Jack and Joan the finger. 

After an uneventful drive with no further car troubles, Brian arrived and parked by the Liberty Diner, twenty minutes late for meeting Michael, who he could spy pacing back and forth in front of the diner’s entrance.

“Where the fuck where you, asshole?” was Michael’s greeting, after Brian walked up to him.

“Car wouldn’t start,” Brian explained, tugging Michael into a one-armed hug.

“ _Again?_ Shit, Brian, your Jeep breaks down more often than Liza’s marriages.”

Brian stared at Michael for a second. “Mikey, you are so pathetic. I think that’s the gayest thing you’ve said in your life. I worry about you, I really do,” he said, shaking his head. Seriously, Brian needed to make sure Mikey got laid or something, watching so much TV with his mother was clearly messing with his brain.

“Whatever. Come on, let’s eat.” Michael led the way inside the diner.

“Hi, boys!” Debbie greeted from the back. “Sit down, I’ll be right with you.”

“I thought Deb didn’t have the dinner shift,” Brian said, raising an eyebrow. He and Mikey slid into their usual booth. “I seem to recall it’s the reason you chose to patronize this wonderful venue every Monday, Wednesday and Friday evening, and made me come.” Brian eyed the busboy who brought them two glasses of water with vague interest. Maybe he’d introduce himself later.

“It’s the only way I get to see you!” Michael exclaimed, interrupting Brian’s musings. “You’re always busy with school, or soccer, or Lindsay and Justin,” he continued, making a face. “And she didn’t use to have the dinner shift, I have no idea what she’s doing here,” he shrugged. 

“So, what’ll it be?” Debbie appeared in front of their table, wearing a vest covered in pins, most of them claiming things like ‘I love my gay son’ or ‘Gay Pride’, and a few less PC ones, which said things along the lines of ‘Dick: the other white meat.’ Brian didn’t even want to ask where the hell she’d gotten a hold of them, and he didn’t have to ask to know Debbie would be wearing that monstrosity for every shift from now on.

“Why are you working at this hour, Ma?” Michael asked. “I thought you were working mornings.”

“I am. I’m also working the dinner shift a few nights a week,” Deb answered.

“You can’t do that! Working graveyard and mornings already makes you exhausted!” Michael exclaimed.

“And we can’t have Liberty Avenue’s biggest fag hag tired, Deb,” Brian added. “Who will we turn to for completely inappropriate comments charged with sexual innuendo if you’re falling asleep on the job?”

“Asshole,” Debbie muttered, smacking the back of his head. “You two need to stop worrying. I’m a grown woman, and I know what I’m doing. Now, you two are having the pink plate special, and I don’t want to hear another word about this,” she declared, and marched off.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Brian whispered. 

“I know why she’s doing it,” Michael said, looking miserable. “It’s Uncle Vic. He’s not doing too well with the meds, and he’s had loads of appointments lately. The newest cocktail they’re making him try is crazy expensive, and the hospital bills just keep on coming.”

Brian’s eyes narrowed, but said nothing. Words were pretty pointless. He hated seeing Michael sad, Debbie so overworked, and he couldn’t stand seeing Vic in pain. He had to do something, soon. 

“So, what’s the latest from Allegheny Community College?” Brian asked, trying to change the subject. 

Michael should have been graduating soon, like Brian, but he’d enrolled in few subjects every semester, and he still had about two years to go to finish. He rolled his eyes at Brian’s obvious intentions, but he started talking about the Mexican guy in his class who insisted on calling him Miguel, impersonated Ricky Martin dancing ‘La Vida Loca’ when Michael entered the classroom, and talked to him in Spanish. Michael thought the guy wanted to be his friend but couldn’t find a suitable way to reach out, and Brian was pretty sure the guy just wanted to fuck Mikey. 

“See you at Babylon tonight?” Michael asked after dinner was over. 

“Yep, Justin and I will be there. Bye, Mikey,” Brian leaned down to kiss him on the lips, and left. 

He didn’t see Michael staring after him for a long time after he was gone. 

+

Justin woke slowly, yawning and rubbing his eyes. There was a high-pitched sound bugging the hell out of him, and he looked around blearily for the source. His eyes fell on the heap of plastic and wires that used to be his alarm clock radio lying on the floor, and he grimaced. Not again. 

The alarm had gone off and he’d thrown the damn thing across the room to make it shut up. His brilliant move had resulted in a constant beep that was driving him nuts, and as he made his way out of bed to crush the last breath out of the electronic demon, he realized Brian was going to tease him mercilessly; this was the fifth radio he’d demolished in two months. He dumped the plastic remains in the garbage can and glanced at his wrist-watch, which was on the bedside table. 

It was eight forty-five.

“FUCK!” 

He had a class at nine and it usually took him twenty minutes to get to PIFA. Without time to spare for a shower, he threw on the first pair of jeans he saw and the last t-shirt left in his drawer; he really needed to do some laundry. Just as he was about to leave, he backtracked to the kitchen and grabbed one of the muffins he’d made the day before. 

It wasn’t until he was already on the bus that he noticed a yellow sticky note stuck on top of the muffin, and he alternated between laughing and wanting to kill Brian when he read what it said.

_“Sunshine: I’ll bet anything you’re running late ‘cause you rolled your lazy ass out of bed at least thirty minutes later than you should have. Don’t worry, the smelly guy with a lisp who’s in love with you will save you a seat and lend you his notes, just like he always does (you’re probably going to have to blow him eventually, and I won’t be sympathetic when you do. It’ll be fair punishment for sleeping while I’m running around in shorts since six a.m.) Thanks for the muffins. B.”_

+

“That’s a lovely outfit, Justin,” Ethan said, sitting next to Justin.

“Fuck off, Ethan,” Justin groaned, burying his face in his hands. He was wearing a light pink t-shirt that read _Dontcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me_ in purple glitter. Daphne had gone to a Pussycat Dolls concert and thought buying the shirt as a present for Justin was the best idea ever. Justin wanted to torture her and kill her slowly. Very slowly. 

“Slept in again?” Ethan asked, laughter coloring his voice. He and Justin usually met up in one of the benches between the Music and the Art Building, and Justin was trying to fold himself into the smallest shape possible so people would stop staring at him.

“Yeah,” Justin answered miserably. “I didn’t even notice what I had on ‘til a twelve year old girl asked me where I’d bought my t-shirt, ‘cause it was ‘way cool’.”

“Did you forget to set the alarm? I thought you bought an alarm clock two weeks ago,” Ethan asked, valiantly trying to stop chuckling.

“Oh, I set the alarm. I just decided to shut it off by practicing my discus throw,” Justin explained.

“Ah,” Ethan nodded in understanding. He stood up from where he sat next to Justin “Well, wanna go get some coffee and a croissant?” 

“Just coffee. I had a muffin and a note for breakfast,” Justin replied, standing up as well.

“A note?” Ethan asked, clearly confused.

“Brian left me a morning greeting stuck to my oatmeal and cinnamon muffin,” Justin shrugged, and started walking toward the good cafeteria on campus.

“Oh,” Ethan replied, glancing away. 

Justin pretended not to notice the jealousy in Ethan’s reply. Justin wasn’t stupid, he’d known Ethan had a crush on him the moment he met him, back in his first semester. They met in one of those ‘Introduction Week’ activities for new students, and they had fun criticizing everyone else and talking about art and inspiration. Even though Justin found the violinist cute, he knew Ethan wanted something serious, and Justin didn’t want serious. He wanted fun, no commitments, no apologies and no regrets. And he was kind of, maybe, sort of, secretly hoping something would happen between Brian and him. So he’d kept Ethan at friendship’s length. Justin wasn’t exactly sure who Ethan was jealous of, actually, because when he introduced him to Brian, he could’ve sworn Ethan nearly salivated. It was a normal reaction when first meeting Brian Kinney, as Justin knew all too well. 

“Justin, I noticed you didn’t make it to class, so I copied down notes for you,” a lispy voice said.

Justin turned to see Anton, a guy from his History of Digital Design class, holding out a few papers. “Oh, thanks, Anton. That’s really nice of you.” He took the papers and tried hard not to show he was grossed out by the smell. 

“I’d do anything for you, Justin,” Anton replied, staring at Justin in such a way that Justin knew he was picturing him naked. 

“Um, uh… thanks. Gotta go, Ethan’s waiting for me,” Justin said in a rush, and caught up with his friend.

“Justin and Anton, the greatest love story never told,” Ethan said mockingly. “How would you describe that smell, exactly? Rotten eggs? Sewage?”

“Oh, shut up! He’s not so bad. If he showered and cut his hair, and maybe wore a different outfit every once in a while, I bet he’d look alright,” Justin replied, though mentally deciding on rotten eggs. Ugh, why did his creepy stalker have to be so damn, well, creepy?

“You know, if he keeps giving you notes, he’s going to expect some sort of payment eventually,” Ethan pointed out. 

Justin nodded, and thought about Brian’s note. He hated when Brian was right - and he was usually right. 

His phone started vibrating, and Justin answered without checking ID.

_“Mind telling me what the text message saying ‘I fucking hate you’ meant?”_

“Daph!” Justin laughed. “I woke up late again, and guess which t-shirt I had to wear ‘cause it was my last clean one?”

_“Oh my god! You wore the Pussycat Dolls shirt! That’s awesome!”_

“It is not awesome. People are staring at me like I’m a total freak,” Justin replied grumpily, ignoring the fact that Ethan had broken out in laughter once again. 

_“You are a total freak, Justin. Just roll with it.”_ A pause. _“Oh, god, I can’t wait to tell Brian!”_

“No way, Daph! You are so not allowed to tell Brian!”

_“Fine, fine. I won’t.”_

Justin was so doomed. Daphne was going to tell Brian.

\+ 

Justin dipped his paintbrush in blue, and as he applied it to his canvas, he felt true peace. The only time he ever felt like this, like everything was right in the world, was when he was painting. There had been another time, but he always blocked himself from thinking about it. He switched to brown and green, and kept on painting. 

His day had been shitty since the morning. First, waking up late and having to take notes from Anton, who he feared might actually jump him at some point. Then, Mr. Wright had been an absolute asshole to him all through Sculpture, the one class Justin didn’t feel completely confident in. He’d also had to help serve out lunch in the cafeteria, as part of the service he was expected to give since he had a student loan. It wasn’t that he actually minded doing the work, he was grateful the school had given him a loan, because without it he wouldn’t be here, but the kids could be incredibly snide; he was more than once compelled to throw the cole slaw in their preppy art faces, but restrained himself. 

It was his fucking dad’s fault that he had to take a loan in the first place. His asshole father, who he knew would rather see him dead than gay, who refused to pay for his “fairy school”. Justin’s mom had divorced him two years ago, Craig’s venom at Justin’s sexuality the last straw in a series of things that had deteriorated their marriage. Jennifer was doing well working as a realtor, but Justin knew she had to take care of Molly and herself, she couldn’t take on his college tuition as well. So he’d applied for a loan, since a scholarship was out of the question, considering Craig’s income. Jennifer helped him out with rent, and Justin worked a few shifts a week at the Liberty Diner to pay for other expenses. 

Justin sighed, and shook himself from thoughts of his father, of fractured families, and of endless diner shifts. This was his time to let it all go, his time to paint it all out.

He stepped back from the canvas, a swirling mix of blue, green, brown. Touches of red, touches of black. He didn’t know if people would notice the figure in the middle, and he hoped someone in particular wouldn’t, if he ever saw it. But Brian was always the one who understood and saw Justin’s art best. 

+

“Justin, will you hurry the fuck up?” Brian called from the living room.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Justin replied from the bathroom, where he was giving the finishing touches to his hair.

“Well, I’m not, which is why I’d love to get a move on sometime this century.”

Justin rolled his eyes. Brian’s puns got worse every day. He should buy him a book or something, ‘1001 Good sexual puns’; he’d take a look in Barnes & Noble soon. After a final glance at himself in the mirror, he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Finally,” Brian replied, and stood up from the couch, were he’d been browsing GQ. “You look hot.”

“Thanks, you too.” 

Justin was wearing a pair of tight, washed out jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, and he knew he looked damn good; the jeans perfectly showcased his ass, and the shirt made his eyes stand out. Brian was wearing dark jeans and a sleeveless red shirt, and all Justin could think was that red was really Brian’s color. 

As he followed Brian out the door, he also reflected that the jeans Brian was wearing made his ass look great, even though they’d been worn for the purpose of outlining his cock. It’s not like anyone was going near Brian’s ass, except to give him a rim job. Justin pushed further thoughts on Brian’s ass and cock away, they led to a road he wasn’t prepared to go down while sober. When they climbed into the Jeep, he turned up the music loud. The Sneaker Pimps started blasting out, and Justin smiled and sang along. Brian pretended to be annoyed, but he eventually sang along as well. 

They arrived to Babylon, by-passing the line because the bouncer had a hard on for both of them, and went inside. They headed across the dance floor toward the bar, and the crowd parted for them in a way it never did for anyone else. Brian ordered two Beams, and he and Justin clinked glasses and downed them in one swallow, their ritual toast for the past two years. 

“Hey Brian!” Michael appeared from somewhere and gave Brian a kiss on the lips. 

He turned to Justin and greeted him with much less enthusiasm. Justin didn’t really mind. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, but Justin knew Michael was jealous that Brian spent so much time with him. Even though Brian had ‘Mikey’ and Justin had Daphne, Brian and Justin had become best friends in a way they weren’t with the other two. Daphne didn’t mind, she kept on hinting Justin should do more than be Brian’s friend, actually, but Michael was pretty damn jealous about it. 

“Let’s dance,” Michael told Brian, dragging him out to the dance floor. 

Brian looked back at Justin with a slight grimace, and Justin knew he was expected to rescue Brian in a song and a half. He passed the time by checking out the patrons, and noticed a very hot brunet giving him the eye. Justin gave him a smile, and headed to the dance floor. He located Brian and Michael somewhere by the center, and started dancing nearby. Eventually, he felt a body behind him, and he didn’t need to turn around to recognize Brian’s smell, Brian’s body. They danced, moving in perfect synch. 

“Thanks,” Brian breathed in his ear.

Justin turned in his arms and gave him a smile. “That’s what friends are for. So, seen anyone interesting yet?”

“There’s tall, dark and buff over there, he looks good,” Brian motioned to a guy who looked like a total muscle queen a few yards away. “You should go for the brunet who’s been checking you out.”

Justin nodded, wondering how Brian had noticed. He knew Brian was about to move in on his trick, because the trick was moving closer, trying to get Brian’s attention. 

Just before leaving, Brian said, “And don’t worry, Sunshine. I think everyone here wishes their girlfriend was as hot as you.” With a wink and a wicked smirk, he was gone.

Justin stared after him with an open mouth, but then he chuckled and started dancing again. As the brunet trick approached, Justin thought Brian was probably right.

+

Justin crawled out of bed around twelve in the afternoon, craving coffee. He finally made it out of his room after relieving his bladder and brushing his teeth, ‘cause his breath smelled of ass. Gross ass. There was a cup of coffee waiting for him in the counter, prepared just like he liked it, along with a glass of water and an aspirin. 

“Morning.”

Justin turned to find Brian sprawled on the couch, watching a soccer game with the sound off. 

“Morning. Thanks for the coffee.” Justin moved Brian’s legs and sat down next to him. “Why do we keep on doing this? Getting drunk, getting high… we always feel like shit the next day.”

“Well, ‘cause the hangover is a fair price to pay for a good night and a good fuck,” Brian shrugged, settling his legs on top of Justin’s lap.

Justin nodded, but said, “My fuck wasn’t that great, though.”

“Yeah. Mine either,” Brian replied. 

Justin shivered a little, and Brian handed him a blanket. He turned up the volume of the TV, and eventually, Justin convinced him to put on The Powerpuff Girls.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Brian practically ran out of his room, cursing the time. He couldn’t afford to be late today of all days.

“Morning, Brian,” Justin greeted him sleepily from the kitchen, where he was busy making pancakes, as far as Brian could tell. They were a bit deformed, but, well, maybe Justin was doing art food now or something. “Want some breakfast?”

“What are _you_ doing up at this hour?” Brian asked, eyebrows raised. “And, no, thanks, I don’t have time.”

“I wake up early sometimes,” Justin answered, offended. Brian stared at him. “Okay, very, very rarely sometimes.”

Brian moved around the apartment quickly, from the kitchen to the living room and back, collecting his school bag, his soccer duffel bag and a portfolio. When he had everything, he went to the kitchen, grabbed the coffee pot, poured sugar into it, and started drinking.

“Hey! I wanted some of that,” Justin complained. 

Brian shrugged and kept drinking. He really needed the caffeine. He didn’t put the coffee pot down until there was just enough for half a cup left. “Ah, breakfast of champions.”

“Brian, you can’t have six cups of coffee and sugar for breakfast. It’s unhealthy,” Justin said, pointedly gesturing to his plate, now full of totally deformed pancakes.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Public Service Announcement. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Justin rolled his eyes and sat down to eat. “Why are you carrying all that shit, anyway?” he asked, mouth full of food.

“Have class, then practice, then the internship at the agency,” Brian explained. “And, just a tip? Chewing is for champions.”

Justin snorted, and swallowed before replying. “See, you’re doing loads of things today, all the more reason to have a decent breakfast.”

Brian shook his head, saying, “No time. Buh-bye, Sunshine.” He gave Justin a peck on the lips, and left. 

+

“So, here is a random example of a campaign for flu medication,” Mr. Johns gestured towards the board, where a slide was being projected. “What do you think? Works, doesn’t work? Good, bad?”

“I think it’s good. It’s sweet,” a girl ventured. There were a few sounds of agreement, and a very loud snort from Brian. 

“Mr. Kinney, care to tell us what you think?” Mr. Johns asked, eyes challenging.

Brian loved a challenge. So he raised an eyebrow, and answered, “I think it’s shit.” 

Everyone chuckled, and the girl who’d spoken first huffed in annoyance. Ugh, Brian hated people who acted offended when you cursed – they always turned out to be royal assholes, so complaining over curse-words was totally hypocritical.

“And why is that?” Mr. Johns inquired, ignoring the chuckles. 

“We all know that what sells isn’t sweet. It’s sex. There’s nothing sexy about that ad,” Brian replied, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s contrived, clichéd, and very fucking boring.”

“How do you expect to have sex in a flu medicine ad? It’s impossible, unless you’re some perv.” the “sweet” girl said haughtily. 

Brian rolled his eyes, and leaned forward. “No it’s not. Listen, flu meds have been around _forever_. The product isn’t new, it isn’t fun. All you count on to sell is a campaign that’s original and attractive. So you either find the sex in the flu, or you try something completely different from any other flu med ad in the world.”

Everyone in the classroom was listening to Brian, and a few people nodded. Mr. Johns asked, “Fine. A good point. So how would you find the sex in the flu?” 

Brian was silent for a few seconds, analyzing the ad. “‘Sweet” looked triumphant, thinking she’d won the argument. 

“You confuse the viewer,” Brian started. “For a TV ad, you start with showing the steps to a bedroom, focusing on the clothing strewn around, so it looks like two people were undressing as they went up the stairs. You hear faint moans. Then, you get to the bedroom, and slowly show that it’s not two people having sex, but a girl taking care of a sick boyfriend, using the medication. For the magazines, you can show a picture of the clothes strewn around, and in the next page, the couple.”

“Slogan?”

“Hmm. “Makes you feel good again, so you can enjoy the good times”, or something like that.”

The teacher nodded. “Well, Mr. Kinney, it seems you’ve done the impossible. Well done,” he smiled. 

The class continued, the students discussing the technicalities of the ad, the things that worked, what didn’t. When the class was finished, just as Brian was about to leave, Mr. Johns asked him, “Out of curiosity, what would you do to make it completely different from any other flu medicine in the world, if you didn’t use sex?”

Brian thought for a moment. “I’d be honest,” he replied. 

+

“Okay, people, the game is this Saturday. We need to be perfect. It’s the big one.”

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth to keep himself from grinning. He’d suddenly remembered Justin’s sticky note. _“Why the fuck are there so many big games, anyway? Is there ever a game that isn’t big?”_ He was right, actually, there hadn’t been a game this season that Coach Jenkins hadn’t dubbed as “the big one”. 

“There’s nothing funny about this, Kinney.” Coach Jenkins’s voice startled Brian out of the memory. “And like I told you, you’re the team captain, you-”

“Have to be the best. I know,” Brian interrupted, voice a bored monotone. It’s not as if he hadn’t heard this friggin’ lecture every game for the last four years. 

“You better know. This isn’t some fairy business, this is serious.” 

Oh, “fairy business”! Give the man a medal, he made a pun. Seriously, the fact that Jenkins was still alive, breathing and sporting all his genitalia uninjured was a small miracle. Brian had been far too tempted way too many times. 

“Well, how about we stop talking and start practicing, then?” Brian asked, before Jenkins could come up with another brilliant dig from his ever-witty repartee. 

Coach Jenkins glared at him, but blew the whistle. The team started running, and Brian knew Jerkings was going to make him pay for that comment. It was going to be a hellish practice.

+

Two hours later, Brian walked into Ryder, looking fresh and very fucking hot in his suit. He always looked hot, but he didn’t feel very fresh, however; he was actually pretty sure one of his toes was bleeding, and he was making an effort to keep his legs from shaking. His prediction had been right; the coach had made sure Brian paid for what he said every second of the hour and a half of practice. Still, he knew he was lucky as hell having an internship in Ryder, and he had to do a kick-ass job if he wanted to be offered a job after graduation. So he swallowed any discomfort, and focused on being brilliant. 

“Brian! Anderson wants you to help him set up for the Lowe’s Shoes presentation,” Jill, an assistant, called out. Brian nodded and headed to Anderson’s office. 

“Jill said you wanted to see me, Mr. Anderson?” Brian asked once he was inside the office. 

“Kinney, good. I need you to set up the boards and sit in on the presentation for Lowe’s. If they ask anything to you, give them a short answer. If you don’t know, don’t make it up, okay? Just defer the question to me,” Anderson explained. 

“Yes, Mr. Anderson.” 

Brian hated saying that name. He felt like any second now, Anderson was going to glare at him and reply, “My name is Neo”. Justin had laughed for fifteen minutes straight when Brian told him what the account executive’s name was, and then forced Brian to watch Matrix once again. Shaking away thoughts of Justin’s silliness, Brian started setting up the presentation. Whatever Anderson may think, Brian was more than prepared for any questions the clients might throw, even for questions they wouldn’t think to ask. He knew that the only way to make it in the ad business was to be the best, not just good. 

After setting up and receiving the executives fro Lowe’s Shoes with a smile and a handshake, Brian sat down to listen to Anderson’s pitch. The presentation went well, not that there was much room for Anderson to fuck up – the campaign was fucking brilliant, Brian didn’t mind admitting, he’d designed most of it himself. The clients seemed impressed, especially with the slogan of the ad. Brian felt quite proud, since he’d come up with the copy in the first place. 

One of the clients, a woman, turned to him and asked, “So, why do you think this ad works? Would you buy the shoes?”

Anderson looked a bit panicked, but Brian calmly replied, “The ad works because it’s memorable. It’s funny, it’s a bit sexy, and it’ll be remembered by the target demographic, the under-thirties. If I had the money, I’d buy the shoes, or bug my mom until she did.”

The woman nodded, a pleased smile on her face. “Good. Well, then, I think we’re set.”

It wasn’t until the clients were leaving that Brian noticed Mr. Ryder himself had seen the presentation; he must have come in half way through. As Brian was leaving the conference room, Ryder said, “Good job.” 

Brian thanked him, mentally doing a happy dance. He hated working under Anderson because the account exec kept taking credit for ideas and campaigns that Brian designed, and he was glad Ryder noticed some of his hard work.

“So, going home to rest?” Jill asked, once Brian was packing up his stuff for the day.

“I wish,” Brian replied. “I have to go do something before that.”

+

Brian was in Babylon looking for a job. He glanced around, noticing how different the nightclub was in the harsh light of day, bereft of hot dancing twinks and with the added disadvantage of the Sap leering at him while he “interviewed” him. 

“So, tell me why I should give you this job, Kinney. ‘Cause even though your grades are impressive, they don’t sell drinks.”

“Sap – Mr. Sapperstein, I may not be a professional bartender, but I know how to mix any drink. And look at me,” Brian opened his arms. “Trust me; people will want to buy drinks from me.”

Sapperstein looked at Brian speculatively. “Alright, then. Mix me a martini, a Cosmo, a margarita and a Sex on the Beach,” Brian nodded and walked to the bar. “With your shirt off,” the Sap called out. Brian bit his lip, and took his shirt off. 

When Brian was done, the Sap tasted each drink, all the while staring at Brian’s chest with undisguised lust. Brian loved being looked at, he loved being admired, but the Sap staring at him like that made him feel uncomfortable and dirty in a way he’d never felt before. Still, he needed the job. He had to help Deb and Vic out. 

“Alright, Kinney. You got yourself a job. You start tonight, nine o’clock.”

+

“We are not going to watch Yellow Submarine again, Justin,” Daphne said, groaning into one of the throw pillows that littered Justin and Brian’s couch. 

“Fine. You pick, then,” Justin said sulkily, putting The Yellow Submarine back into the cabinet that held their DVD collection. 

“How about the Matrix?” Daphne asked.

“Nah, I watched that with Brian not too long ago. One of his bosses is called Mr. Anderson,” Justin giggled. Daphne looked at him oddly. “It’s an inside joke. Never mind.” 

“Where is Brian, anyway?” Daphne wondered, looking around the apartment.

“School, soccer practice, ad agency - pick one,” Justin shrugged. “I actually haven’t spoken to him for more than a minute this week.” 

He tried not to let on how much it bothered him, but he really missed Brian. He was so used to their daily interaction, their jokes, the easy understanding, that he hadn’t noticed how much he depended on it until he didn’t have it anymore. Justin sighed. Great, just what he needed – to realize just how dependant he was on Brian Kinney.

“Well, that sucks. You haven’t even gone to Babylon with him?”

“I haven’t been to Babylon since last Saturday. Had to work on that Sculpture project for my asshole teacher, remember?” 

Daphne nodded, but kept looking toward Brian’s bedroom, as if prolonged staring would make him appear. Justin understood, Brian walking around made the general view much nicer.

“He’s not gonna pop up magically, Daph. I feel so neglected. You don’t ever come by just to see me anymore. You just want to catch another glimpse of Brian naked,” Justin complained.

“Well, yeah, obviously,” Daphne said, grinning. “Come on, let’s watch Alexander and skip to the parts with Jared Leto.”

+

Justin was working a shift at the diner, putting a plate with turkey meat loaf in front of a leather queen, when he felt a menacing presence by his side. He turned to see Michael glaring at him.

“Where is he? Where did you put him?” Michael asked, poking a finger at Justin’s chest.

“Don’t fucking poke me, Michael! What are you, four?” Justin huffed, rubbing at his chest. “And where is who? What are you talking about?” he asked, confused

“Brian!” Michael exclaimed. “He’s bailed on dinner every day this week.”

“Well, I’ve barely seen him all week either,” Justin replied. “I’m asleep before he gets home, and by the time I wake up he’s gone again.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Michael wondered. 

Justin didn’t answer, busying himself with refilling water glasses. Truth be told, he was wondering the same thing. He’d been trying hard not to worry, but things were getting out of hand.

“We have to go to Babylon tonight,” a guy sitting in a booth nearby said loudly, practically jumping up and down.

“Why?” his companion asked.

“Haven’t you heard? Kinney, that hot, young stud, is bartending. Everyone says it’s the hottest thing to hit Babylon since last week’s Absolute Abs contest winner.”

Justin turned to look at Michael, and he was sure his look of horror was reflected in his own face. They stared at each other with wide eyes, and wordlessly decided to hit Babylon that night.

+

Justin and Michael entered Babylon, adjusting to the crowd and the thumpa-thumpa. They made their way to the bar, craning their necks to find Brian.

“There he is!” Michael said, pointing to a particularly crowded part of the bar. Justin and Michael approached, shoving others out of their way, until they were in front. 

Brian was wearing tight jeans, and nothing else. He was slightly sweaty, which only made him look hotter, and he was busy making an elaborate cocktail, putting on a show by twirling bottles. The patrons were cheering, ogling him, and asking for more drinks than Brian could keep up with.

“Brian, what the fuck are you doing?” Michael yelled, unceremoniously shoving two guys away. 

Justin saw the surprise in Brian’s face, but it was quickly covered up with a smirk. “Serving drinks, Mikey, what does it look like I’m doing?” he said, gesturing at the many cocktail glasses in front of him

“Since when are you a bartender here?” Justin asked, making his way to stand next to Michael.

“Monday,” Brian answered curtly. 

“Brian, you have a million things going on at school, with the internship. I don’t think working nights at a club is a good idea,” Justin said, biting his lip. 

“Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion. Now, if you’re not gonna order anything, would you mind moving?” Brian asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Justin raised his hands in surrender and backed away from the bar. Michael followed him, muttering. “I can’t believe that asshole. What does he think he’s playing at?”

Justin didn’t answer, but he looked back in time to see Brian snorting what was probably a trail-mix of cocaine and who knows what the fuck else from a small vial. 

Not good. 

+

The following morning, Justin woke up to find the muffins he’d baked uneaten, and on the sticky note, underneath his _Eat before you starve yourself to death, asshole_ he read Brian’s reply, _Fuck off, Sunshine._

Brian always answered a variation of that, but he usually ate what Justin made for him. This made Justin go beyond worried and into panic territory. Brian wasn’t eating, he was barely sleeping and he was getting through school, soccer, the internship and bartending on drugs. Justin had no idea why Brian took the job in the first place; he didn’t actually need the money, since his scholarship came with living expenses. 

“What’s wrong, Justin?” Ethan asked, later that day. “I just said I think Pollock sucks, and you didn’t ream me out.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry,” Justin gave him a small smile. “I’m just worried, is all.”

“About what?”

“Brian. He’s… fuck, something’s gonna happen. He can’t go on like he has,” Justin answered, looking down at the stone path they were walking on. He kept remembering Brian bartending in Babylon, looking gorgeous, but very fucking tired, if anyone cared to look any closer.

“The asshole again? He’s a big boy. Why don’t you let him make his own mistakes?” Ethan said, mouth twisting.

“Because he’s my best friend, fuck you very much, Ethan,” Justin replied angrily, and walked off. 

He really hated how petty Ethan could be, how he could never put aside his stupid crush on Justin and his hatred of Brian and just be Justin’s friend. Justin walked to the bus stop. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and knowing he’d be unable to concentrate in the studio that day, he went home.

When he arrived, he threw his bag down and didn’t give a shit when half his things flew out. Brian always complained about Justin’s mess, but Brian was too fucking busy killing himself, and Justin felt like making a fucking mess, damn it. As he walked to his room he noticed Brian’s door was open, and he heard the water running in the shower. Curious, he went to investigate. When he saw the figure lying on the floor, he had to put a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.

“No, no, no, no. Please, no,” he begged, kneeling. He felt a pulse. Sighing with short-lived relief, he grabbed the phone from the nightstand, and dialed 911.

“Jesus Christ, Brian,” he whispered, fighting the tears.

+

“He’s going to be fine,” the doctor assured Justin, who deflated against the wall, sighing with relief. “He passed out because of severe exhaustion. He had low blood sugar, he was dehydrated - he really needs to take better care of himself,” the doctor continued.

“I know,” Justin breathed out. “He hasn’t rested at all this week. He goes to school, soccer practice and work in the day, and then he works most of the night at a club.”

“Well, he’s going to have to stop. His body can’t take that much, especially if he’s also not eating right.”

“I’ll make sure he eats better, doctor,” Justin promised. He was going to make good on his promise, enough to make sure Brian regretted the day he’d scared the life out of him. “Can I see him now?”

“Yes, you can go in. He’s still a bit drowsy, but he’ll be able to go home later tonight.”

“Thank you, doctor, thank you so much.” Justin gave him a watery smile, and went into Brian’s room. 

Brian’s eyes were closed and he looked pale. There was an IV hooked to one of his veins, and Justin winced at the faint bruise he could see forming in Brian’s hand. 

“You fucking asshole,” he whispered, his hand hesitating above Brian’s.

“Here I am in my death bed and you insult me, Sunshine?” Brian said hoarsely, opening his eyes.

“You’re awake!” Justin exclaimed, and launched himself onto Brian. 

Brian hugged him back weakly, but Justin relished the feel of his arms nonetheless.

Eventually, he leaned back and smacked him on the shoulder. “Fuck you, Brian! You have no idea how much you scared me, you fucking idiot!” he yelled, glaring at him.

“Ow,” Brian rubbed his shoulder. Justin kept glaring at him, and Brian managed to look contrite. “I know. I’m sorry, Justin.”

“You should be,” Justin admonished. 

He knew he had to tell Brian it was time to take care of himself, to stop working in Babylon, but he had to go about it the right way. Telling Brian that he had to take care of himself because so many people loved him would be received with a raised eyebrow and a snort, so Justin went at it from another direction.

“Brian, you have to stop pushing yourself like this. You have to quit bartending,” Brian was about to interrupt, but Justin held a hand up and kept talking. “Listen, I don’t know why you started working there, but you have to quit. The doctor said so. I know you think you can do anything, but eventually, you’ll start fucking up. You’re nothing away from graduating! Do you really want to put your entire career on the line for a sleazy job? What if you’d collapsed in Ryder, huh? Do you really think they’d hire you after you making a scene like that?” 

Brian looked down. “No,” he whispered.

“That’s right, they wouldn’t have. What if they caught you snorting poppers or cocaine to keep yourself awake, huh? You _have_ to quit. You have to take care of yourself.”

The room was silent for a moment, except for the constant beep of the machine next to Brian. Justin felt ridiculously grateful for the sound that told him Brian was alright, Brian was alive. 

“Alright, I’ll quit Babylon,” Brian finally said. 

“Good,” Justin smiled. “And I’m gonna cook you breakfast in the mornings, and you will eat it, no fucking complaints. You’ll also have a healthy lunch and dinner, unless you want me to tell Michael and Debbie about this little episode,” Justin warned.

“No! Don’t tell them,” Brian looked horrified, and justifiably so. Justin couldn’t imagine the levels of mothering Brian would be subjected to if the Novotnys found out about Brian’s collapse. “I swear I’ll eat.”

“Excellent. Now, scoot over so I can lie down next to you.”

Brian rolled his eyes, but moved so Justin fit next to him. 

Just before Brian dozed off, Justin whispered, “I love you, Brian. Don’t ever do this to me again.”

Brian didn’t answer. But he held on, and Justin felt Brian’s tightening around him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

“C’me on, Justin, we’re gonna be late,” Daphne urged, trying to drag him into the cinema.

They were going to watch a special showing of Casablanca, Daphne’s all-time favorite movie, because Justin thought she deserved it after putting up with his repeated breakdowns the last few days. 

“Hold on, I just need to call Brian,” Justin said, taking his phone out of his pocket. 

He really did need to call him, make sure everything was okay. He’d gone to the supermarket yesterday, made sure to buy plenty of fruit, vegetables and stuff with protein, like eggs and meat, but maybe Brian hadn’t noticed. 

“You’ve called him twice already!” Daphne exclaimed. “I swear you’re beginning to act like Michael and Debbie. And I love the lady, but that isn’t exactly a compliment.”

“I’ll only be a second,” Justin promised, dialing. Daphne rolled her eyes and waved him off, clearly not believing him.

_“What now, Sunshine?”_ Brian answered quickly, voice mock-irritated.

“Just wanted to check-”

_“If I was alright? I’m just as alright as I was the last time you called, and the time before that.”_

“I know,” Justin sighed. Oh, god, he was probably acting a lot worse than Debbie, he should’ve listened to Daphne. “I’m sorry, I’m just-”

_“Worried. I know you are.”_ Brian paused for a second, and Justin could almost see the look on his face, the serious eyes, the raised eyebrows. _“Listen to me, Justin, are you listening?”_

“I’m listening.”

_“I promised I’d take care of myself, and I always keep my promises, remember?”_ Justin nodded, even though Brian couldn’t see him, and Brian continued. _“Now, I have to go eat something and then head to class, okay? So stop calling me before Daphne breaks your phone, or I do.”_

“Okay,” Justin said, sheepishly. “See you later.” He hung up, a small grin adorning his face. When he looked up from his cell phone, he noticed Daphne was staring at him oddly, and somewhat compassionately.

“What?” 

“Justin, can I tell you something that’s going to piss you off?” she asked, suddenly almost somber.

“No.” Justin didn’t like it when Daph got that look on her face, it always meant she was going to tell him something true, but very fucking painful.

“Well, it’s my duty as your oldest and coolest friend, so I’m gonna tell you anyway.” Daphne took a deep breath. “You’re in love with Brian,” she said.

“What?!” Justin exclaimed, wincing at the high pitch of his voice. “Um. Uh, what? No. No way,” Justin tried to deny, fighting off a panic attack.

“Listen, I’ve suspected this, like, forever,” Daphne started, biting her lip. “But the way you freaked out over his collapse? Fuck, Justin! You do realize you’ve called me three times in as many days, in the middle of the night, because you had a nightmare about Brian dying? And then you have to stay up and see him sleep, to make sure he’s breathing.” Daphne took Justin’s hand in his. “That’s not normal friend worry, Justin. That’s love-you-to-the-depths-of-my-soul worry.” 

Justin said nothing for a long while, staring down at their clasped hands. He couldn’t deal with this today, not now, not sober. 

Then, he let go of Daphne’s hand and said, “Let’s go in, before we miss the movie.” 

He turned to walk into the cinema and Daphne followed him after a moment, sighing. 

Denial’s a bitch.

+

Brian and Justin were playing pool in Woody’s, and Brian was kicking Justin’s ass. 

Normally, Justin was a damn good player, but he was distracted. And since he was distracting himself from the reason he was distracted in the first place, he was playing miserably. It didn’t help that Brian was being all awesome and hot, joking around, throwing an arm around Justin’s shoulders, kissing him whenever he nailed a shot. He was so good at being a total asshole, why did he have to be so fucking charming today of all days?

“Okay, enough,” Brian said, putting his cue down, and pulling Justin out of his morose train of thought. “I love a painful slaughter as much as the next man, but this is just too much. Let’s make a toast instead.”

Justin nodded gratefully, dropped his cue on the pool table, and raised his shot glass. Drinking was definitely a better idea than looking at Brian bent over the goddamned pool table for one more scond. 

“To living through the most dreadful experience -” Justin smiled, thinking Brian was going to make a sentimental toast. Yeah, fucking right. As if. “- a roommate who takes mothering to another level.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Justin laughed, but drank to the toast nonetheless. “Now it’s my turn. To a truly great person,” he started, and Brian smirked. “Someone who has to put up with you. Namely, me. Bottoms up!” Justin finished, drinking the last of his whiskey.

Brian stared at him with an open mouth, but then he laughed softly and drank to Justin’s toast. They both walked back to their small corner table and put down their empty tumblers.

“Great. Now we need more drinks,” Brian declared, looking at Justin pointedly.

“Me? You’re the one who worked in Babylon. I saw you, you must’ve made hundreds from tips alone. So if anyone is the rich drink buyer here, it’s you,” Justin said, smiling.

“That money’s been spent,” Brian answered, strangely serious. “It was used the moment I earned it.”

Justin wondered at his abrupt shift in mood. “On what?” he asked, caught completely off-guard.

“Vic’s hospital bills.” 

Justin’s eyes widened. Holy fuck. Of course. He couldn’t help the fond, if slightly exasperated, smile that touched his lips. Of course Brian would risk his health, do whatever it took, just to help Vic, Debbie and Michael, even though they didn’t ask for it, even though they’d never know. It was what Brian did, he took care of people, saved them, helped them, and said nothing, accepted no acknowledgement. He was the truest hero Justin had ever known.

“Deb needed help,” Brian shrugged, as if it explained everything, as if it had been nothing at all.

Justin nodded, knowing anything he said would be badly received. So he stood up, saying, “I’ll get the drinks.”

Brian Kinney never failed to surprise him.

+

Justin had known the exact moment when Brian was going to stand up and go to the trick in the table by the door. He’d known it was going to be that guy since they walked in, because Brian hadn’t fucked him yet, and he was just his type. He’d known Brian would play pool and drink with Justin, making the guy wait. Because Brian did things his own way, and anybody would wait for him. 

Still, even though he’d known, it still hurt when Brian stood up, gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and left saying, “Gotta go see a fuck about a blowjob. Later, Sunshine.”

Justin stayed for a while more, drinking another glass of whiskey he should’ve done without, ignoring the guys cruising him, and looking at Brian make his move. He knew every single move in the Kinney manual. It was only tonight, after too many drinks, two fucking years, and words he wished he’d never heard, that Justin could admit to himself he wanted to be on the receiving end of those moves again. The only problem was he didn’t just want the moves; he wanted everything. The only problem was Brian was his best friend. The only problem was it was a fucking bad idea. 

Mostly, the only problem was that there wasn’t just one problem.

+

When Justin got home, he headed directly for the phone and called Daphne. 

_“Hello?”_

“You were right,” he said miserably.

_“I know. I’m always right.”_

“So what do I do now?” 

_“Tell him?”_

“Yeah, right,” Justin snorted. There was no fucking way he was telling Brian Kinney he was in love with him. He wanted to keep his limbs, and his heart, intact, thank you very much.

_“Um, okay, then. How about dating? To get over him?”_

“Dating?” 

_“Yeah, you know, that socially awkward situation where you go out with another human being, eat, drink, and try to make conversation without making an idiot of yourself?”_

“Right… I don’t think I’ve ever done that.” It sounded okay. Justin was sure it would be fine, and if Daph said it would help him get over Brian, then he was willing to do it.

_“I have the perfect guy. You’re going out with him tomorrow.”_

+

“You’re going out on a _date_?” 

Justin was amazed at how Brian managed to make the word “date” sound not only ridiculous, but also disgusting, and almost obscene, in a non-hot way. 

“Yeah, I’m going out on a date.” 

Justin was scrambling around his room, rifling through his closet, trying to get ready for his lunch date. He considered the two t-shirts in front of him, wondering whether the blue one would make him look too slutty, or the white one too respectable. Was it better to be slutty or respectable at a date? Ugh. “Lunch date” sounded so retarded. Fuck, everything to do with dates sounded retarded. Justin wondered why the hell he was doing this.

“With whom?” Brian was sitting in Justin’s bed, making a nuisance of himself and fighting off a freak out over the messy state of Justin’s room. 

He was about ten seconds away from cracking and cleaning up, Justin could tell – Brian’s left eye was twitching. 

“A friend of Daphne’s,” Justin finally replied, discarding a yet another shirt because it was too tight, tossing it on the bed on his way to the bathroom. Brian quickly grabbed and went to Justin’s closet to hang it up.

“A friend of Daphne’s?” Brian asked, incredulous to new, and even more annoying, levels.

“You know, it would be really awesome if you stopped repeating everything I said,” Justin pointed out, throwing one more shirt on the floor because it was too loose. Brian rolled his eyes and picked it up.

“Fuck you.” Brian actually stuck his tongue out at him. “I’m going to work out. Have fun on your date, honey,” he said in a mocking falsetto.

Justin was already ten minutes late by the time he left the apartment, wearing a snug light blue sweater he hoped was proper date-wear. The last thing he saw was Brian, shirtless, doing crunches. The reason he was going out on a date was suddenly made much more clear.

+

Justin ran inside the restaurant, scanning the tables for a guy that matched Daphne’s description: brown hair, brown eyes, medium height – basically, every second guy in the world. He did spot him fairly quickly, mainly because the guy looked about as nervous as Justin felt. He made his way to the table.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Justin said breathlessly, sitting down on the chair. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the guy said. Justin thought his name was Rick. Or Red? “I only got here a few minutes ago myself,” he smiled. 

Justin didn’t smile back. So Rob wasn’t punctual, was he? Strike one.

“So, have you been here before?” Justin gestured to the restaurant. “Is it good?”

“Oh, it’s great. And it’s totally cheap,” he winked. Fucking winked. 

Great, Ron was a cheap bastard. Justin understood that they were both college students, and, as such, certifiably starving for four years, but he thought you should at least pretend in a date, right? Strike two.

“So what’s your major?” Justin asked, making one last effort, and digging in to the bread basket. If the worse came to the worse, he was at least going to eat something.

“Orthodontics,” the guy answered, practically puffing his chest out with pride. “I want to be the best dentist I possibly can. Dentistry is truly an art form.”

Justin almost choked on his water. Dentistry? Art form? Okay, Rube was a fucking loser. Justin could be a snob sometimes, but nobody in his right mind would call fixing teeth art. Strike three, and out.

+

Brian laughed for about twenty minutes when Justin recounted his date. 

“Where the hell did Daphne find him, anyway?” Brian asked, once he’d caught his breath. He looked far too delighted, and, who knew? Far too delighted looked as hot on Brian Kinney as angry, horny, sarcastic, or drunk. Fucking perfect asshole. 

“Apparently, she’s her roommate’s boyfriend’s friend,” Justin explained, flopping down on the couch.

“See, people who you know through such complicated sentences just aren’t good date material,” Brian said. “Come on, let’s watch Fight Club and eat chocolate Haagen-Dazs,” he proposed, walking toward the kitchen.

Justin gaped, truly bemused.

“What, aren’t you supposed to watch a movie and pig out on ice-cream when your date’s a fucking idiot?” Brian asked once he was back, tub of Haagen-Dazs in hand.

Justin snorted. “You’re supposed to watch a chick flick, like Pride and Prejudice, and eat Ben & Jerry’s.”

“Well, there are loads more hot, shirtless guys in Fight Club than in Pride and Prejudice, and I like Haagen-Dazs better,” Brian shrugged. “Plus, Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream has weird-ass names,” he added, sitting down on the couch after putting Fight Club into the DVD player.

Justin couldn’t help but chuckle, honestly happy. Brian gave him a small grin, and offered him a spoon. 

+

“No fucking way you’re going out with one of those GLC weirdos,” Brian exclaimed two days later, flopping down on Justin’s bed and scowling at the textbooks his head collided with.

“Yes fucking way,” Justin said. “And it was Lindsay who set me up.” After Justin had mentioned his disastrous date, Lindsay had offered to give his number to a really sweet guy she’d just met.

 

“So?” Brian huffed. “She’s a lesbian.” As if that explained everything.

“Anyway, I’m going out for dinner this time. It might be better.” Justin hoped so. He really, really hoped so. 

Justin spotted his date as soon as he walked into the restaurant, because Lindsay had described him as a buff, red-haired guy, and there was such a one sitting in one of the tables by the entrance. 

“Hi, I’m Chad. Nice to meet you,” the guy extended his hand, and gave him a wide smile. 

“Hi, I’m Justin,” he replied, shaking his hand. “Likewise.” 

So far so good. The guy was okay looking, punctual, the restaurant was nice. Maybe this wouldn’t suck. 

“So, how do you know Lindsay?” 

“She’s really good friends with my roommate, Brian,” Justin explained.

“Right, right.” Chuck was still smiling widely, leaning forward on the table. 

He looked a bit like a shark who’d just caught the tasty scent of blood. Justin wondered if he’d been subjected to the art of dentistry, and thus felt like bragging his teeth. It was starting to freak him out. So, creepy wide smile was strike one.

“Um, what about you? How do you know Lindsay?” Justin asked, attempting to breach the silence before it got awkward.

“Oh, she helped me out when I first came out. She was a lifesaver.”

“Coming out can be tough,” Justin commiserated. God knows he’d gone through his fair share of crap, what with his dad being an unreasonable, homophobic asshole. But, not the right time to dwell on such things. He focused on shark boy once more. “How long ago did you come out?”

“Oh, two days ago.”

Justin stared. What the hell? “Um, well, congratulations,” he said hesitantly. 

“Thanks,” Charlie was still smiling. “So, how about that Lindsay, huh? Is she a hot fox, or what?”

“I… I guess so?” Talking about a girl, a lesbian, wasn’t really normal in dates, was it? Justin hadn’t been in many, actually, just a grand total of one, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. 

“Yeah, she’s hot alright. Do you think I have a chance with her?” Champ asked, managing to look serious while smiling. “I mean, I think this favor I did for her is the right way to go, to impress her, you know?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Strike two, strike three, out. 

+

“He wasn’t gay?!” Brian was having far too much fun with this.

“No,” Justin answered grumpily, slouching down further on the couch. He the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Man, why did he have to have such bad luck? Dating couldn’t be this horrible for everyone, otherwise nobody would do it. 

“Well, what did Lindsay say when you told her?”

“She apologized for ten minutes. Though I’m pretty sure she laughed her ass off the moment we hung up.” Justin buried his face in one of the cushions.

Brian just grinned. Seeing Justin’s misery, however, he went to the refrigerator. “Okay, time to pull out the big guns. Haagen-Dazs chocolate chocolate chip.”

Justin fought a smile.

“C’me on, Sunshine. You know you want it,” Brian said in a sing-song voice. “And, look! Legends of the Fall _and_ Highway. So we can watch Brad Pitt at his hottest, and when the drama gets too fucking boring, we can get stoned along with Jared Leto and Jake Gyllenhaal. I tell you, it doesn’t get much better than this.”

Justin couldn’t stop staring at Brian as he got out the two movies from the cabinet and popped the first one in. When he plopped down on the couch next to him, Justin took his spoon and dug into the ice-cream. Glancing toward Brian again, he had to agree, it didn’t get much better. That was precisely the problem, though. 

+

Justin went out for coffee with Anton, the weird, smelly guy who was in love with him. Actually, it was more like Justin ordered coffee before Anton, who was next in line. But Anton smiled at him creepily the whole time, and since Justin felt as awkward as he had in his two previous dates, he thought it might count. He didn’t mention it to Brian, however, because no amount of Haagen-Dazs or shirtless hot men could make up for the length of time he would make fun of Justin.

+

“So, you went out on a date with a dentist who fancied himself an artist, and with a straight guy who was trying to score points with a lesbian?” Ethan asked, bravely trying to keep the mirth from his voice, and failing. 

He and Justin had made up after Justin’s blow-up, mainly because Ethan had apologized for being so insensitive. And because Justin hated not having someone with whom he could make fun of people at school. 

“Yep,” Justin nodded. 

“Wow,” Ethan said, eyes wide. “That really takes bad dates to another level.”

“I know.” Justin thought it was a curse, or maybe a disease. It could be karma, come to think of it, since he’d fucked quite a few guys and acted like an asshole afterward. But, c’me on, no amount of bad karma explained the last week. 

They stopped in front of a hot dog vendor and ate a very unhealthy lunch. Justin was finishing his second hot dog, when Ethan spoke up.

“So, how about you go on a date with me?”

Justin focused on swallowing so he wouldn’t choke. “What?” he managed to wheeze out.

“Well, I’m thinking I can’t suck anymore than the guys you’ve already gone out with, and I might actually be good,” Ethan elaborated, fidgeting with the sleeves of his worn out black coat.

Justin looked at him for a moment, at his hopeful face, his cocky grin which he attempted to make shy. “Let me think about it.”

When he got home, Brian was standing in the middle of the living room watching a soccer game, still wet from a shower, with nothing but a towel on. 

“Hey, Sunshine,” he called out, as Justin went past him to get to his room. 

Once Justin had closed the door, he leaned against it for a moment, and took out his phone. “Ethan? Hi. So, I’ll go out with you.”

+

“ _Ian?_ You’re going out with Ian?” This time Brian was sitting on the floor, which he deemed only slightly safer than Justin’s bed, and looking up at him as if he expected Justin to say it was a joke.

“Ethan, and yes, I am,” Justin said, putting on a black sweater. 

“Why?” Brian sounded honestly confused. “I thought you knew he had this big crush on you, and you didn’t want to lead him on.”

“Well, yeah, but.” Justin took in Brian, wearing the red sleeveless shirt. Motherfuckin’ hot asshole. “I thought I should give him a chance.”

Brian huffed. “So what’s it gonna be this time? Lunch? Dinner? Or does putting up with his disgusting goatee for fifteen minutes count as a date?”

“Neither,” Justin replied, gamely ignoring the dig. “We’re going to a concert in the park.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Brian mocked, straightening the pile of sketchbooks lying on the floor next to him.

“Fuck all you know about romance,” Justin grinned, putting on his shoes.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Well, I’ve heard it’s romantic.”

Apparently, what Brian had heard was right, because when Justin and Ethan arrived to the plaza where the concert was being held, everything was illuminated with fairy lights. They sat down on the plastic chairs that were placed around the podium where the musicians would play, and talked about nothing in particular until the concert began. Justin felt quite relieved at actually knowing Ethan’s name. 

They walked around the park after the concert, Ethan pointing out where he would’ve played differently, and Justin nodding in agreement even though he wasn’t all too sure what Ethan was talking about. They stopped by a street vendor and bought piping hot coffee and cinnamon doughnuts, and sat down on a bench to eat them.

“I can’t believe I’ve lived in Pittsburgh my whole life and I’ve never done this before,” Justin marveled. 

“Well, now you know. Stick with me, and I’ll take you to places you’ve never dreamed,” Ethan said smiling.

Justin had no idea of how to reply. What the hell were you supposed to answer to something like that? So he took a deep drink from his coffee, and almost burnt his tongue. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked him worriedly.

“U-huh. Just burnt my tongue,” Justin replied with a wince.

“Do you want some ice, some cold water?”

“No, no, I’ll be alright,” Justin assured him.

+

Brian was waiting for him when he got home. “So, did it suck?” he asked the moment Justin got in the door.

Justin didn’t answer for a moment, considering. His date hadn’t sucked. He hadn’t counted strikes throughout the evening, he’d been sure of what Ethan’s name was… and, sure, he’d burnt his tongue because Ethan was a bit of a cornball, but all things considered, it had been alright.

“Nope, it didn’t suck. I actually had a pretty good time,” Justin said, smiling. 

“Oh.” Was it disappointment he saw in Brian’s face? “Well, I’m gonna head to Babylon. See you later.” 

Brian was gone before Justin could utter another word.

+

Brian didn’t even stop to get a drink. The moment he arrived to Babylon, he grabbed a guy by the shirt and pulled him toward the backroom. The guy didn’t complain, of course, because even though Brian was young, he was building up quite a reputation, and nobody said no to a guy as hot as him. 

Once inside the backroom, Brian pushed the trick to his knees. He looked around, and nodded to a couple of guys who were giving him the eye. Soon, he was surrounded, he was being pleased, he was at peace. Or he desperately wanted to be. Justin’s smiling face came to his mind, and he took out a small vial from his pocket, snorted. It wasn’t enough.

“Anybody got E?”

Several hands offered all the little white pills he could want. He took two. This was his kingdom. This was his place. No dates, no worries, nothing. Nothing. 

Brian made his way into the apartment just as dawn was breaking. He looked toward Justin’s closed door, and went into his own room.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Justin was finishing a shift at the diner when Michael finally cornered him. He’d been calling for the past three days, bugging Justin, asking why Brian was so weird, why Brian hadn’t seen him for so long.

“You know what happened. Tell me,” Michael urged.

“Michael, for the last time, I don’t know!” Justin exclaimed, putting down a stack of plates on top of the counter. “Now, I need to do my job, so will you please stop asking?” Justin tried to move, but Michael blocked his way.

“Justin, you know Brian won’t tell me. He thinks I can’t handle when bad shit happens to him. But,” Michael lowered his voice, looked at Justin with earnest eyes. “Please, tell me. I mean, I didn’t see him for a week and a half, and then he didn’t call for ages, and suddenly everything’s okay? It’s not. I know it’s not. Please, tell me what happened. I heard him take a call from a doctor yesterday!”

Justin sighed. He hated Michael’s puppy dog eyes, because they just made him feel so guilty. He knew if Brian found out, he’d kill him, but Michael had a right to know; even if he was a bit annoying at times, he loved Brian and he worried about him. 

“Brian collapsed last Friday,” Justin began. Michael gasped. “I found him passed out in his room, because of exhaustion. I called an ambulance, and he was in the hospital for a day. He’s totally fine now, he just has to take better care of himself,” Justin assured Michael.

“Fuck! That asshole!” Michael shook his head. “He was probably exhausted because he was working nights at Babylon, right? Why was he working there in the first place?”

Oh, shit. This was even worse. Justin bit his lip, indecisive. On the one hand, Brian would hit the roof if he realized Justin had spilled the beans, and considering Michael’s lack of a verbal filter, he was bound to find out. On the other hand, it was about Michael’s family, about Vic and Deb, and he did deserve to know. 

“Well… Brian took the job in Babylon because he wanted to help out with Vic’s hospital bills,” Justin finally answered. 

Michael said nothing, apparently in shock. He opened his mouth, but closed it, and turned to leave. Just before opening the door of the dinner, he turned back and said, “Justin, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Fuck. If Brian found out, Justin was going to be in deep shit trouble. But fuck him, he should know there are people who care about him, who worry, and who deserve to be informed when things happen.

+

Justin walked quickly to his Sculpture class. Truth be told, he was sort of avoiding Ethan. He had no idea how to act around him after their date. Maybe Ethan was expecting kisses and shit like that, and Justin wasn’t really ready for public displays of affection yet.

“Justin! Hey, Jus!” 

Damn it. “Oh, hi Ethan!” Justin called back, not slowing down.

“How are you?” Ethan ran a bit to catch up with him.

“I’m good, thanks, you?” Justin asked, walking just a bit faster.

“Good.” Ethan looked at him for a moment, and reached out to hold him in place. “Just stop for a second. Listen, Jus, you don’t have to feel awkward about our date. I had a great time, but I know you’re new at this whole thing. So, we’ll take it slow, you call the shots. Okay?”

Justin smiled, relieved. “Okay. Thanks, Ethan.”

In Sculpture class, Justin told himself that Ethan was being really fucking understanding about the whole dating thing, and that his patience probably deserved a second date. He ignored the part of his brain that told him Ethan had been just a bit condescending, and he was so busy arguing with himself, he didn’t notice the figure he was slowly forming with clay. It was the figure he always drew, painted, and sculpted. It was Brian.

+

“Are you sure you want to quit, Mr. Novotny?” Principal Thomas asked, his penetrating eyes all but piercing Michael.

Michael bit his lip and fidgeted in his chair. He had to do this. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Very well,” the principal said, nodding. “I’m sorry, then. I wish you luck in whatever you do,” he extended his hand.

“Thank you very much, sir,” Michael replied, shaking his hand.

Michael stepped out of Allegheny Community College, and paused outside the door. He looked back, taking in the building where he’d once thought he’d study a career, become someone, get a great job. But as his mom liked to say, life has a way of fucking around with your plans. With a sigh, Michael went down the steps and headed to the Big Q on Butler Street. 

After dropping off his job application and having a small interview with the assistant manager, Michael headed to the Liberty Diner. He peered inside, and since he didn’t see his mom, he went in. He really didn’t feel like dealing with Debbie’s questions right now.

“Honey!” Shit. Debbie had just turned from getting some plates loaded with food from the kitchen. “Come give your mother a kiss!” 

Michael gave her a halfhearted smile and walked toward her, and Debbie patted his cheek affectionately. “What are you doing here at this hour? I thought you had class.”

Michael cringed. He so didn’t want to get into this right now. There wasn’t a way to get around his mom, however, he’d learnt that the hard way. “Um. Yeah… I quit school.”

“You what?!” Debbie dropped one of the plates she was holding, which resulted in a man who was sitting nearby being splattered with spaghetti sauce, and complaining. Debbie turned to him, “Shut the hell up, will you? It’s sauce, it washes out. Jeez.” She rolled her eyes, and returned her complete attention to Michael. “So, what do you mean you quit school?”

“I did,” Michael shrugged. “You and I both know I’m no good at school stuff, Ma. It’s just the way it is. I was nowhere near graduating, and it’s time I moved out of your house, started making money…”

“Move out? You’re moving out?!” Debbie sat down heavily on one of the booths, clutching her chest. Eventually, she asked “How are you gonna pay the rent on an apartment?” 

“I just got a job at the Big Q over on Butler,” Michael explained. “I’ll be starting with a small salary, but if I work hard I can get a promotion pretty soon.” He sat down next to his mother and took her hand. “Listen, Ma, it’s time for me to do this. It’s my choice, okay?”

“Okay, darling,” Debbie nodded, blinking the tears away.

Somehow, Michel felt it wasn’t over. His mom was never this easy.

+

Michael was deeply absorbed in an issue of Captain Astro when Brian found him. He should’ve known Debbie would tell Brian, and that of all people, Brian would know to find him in the comic book store.

“Mikey, what the fuck?” where the first words out of his mouth. “Your mom just called me to say you quit school.”

“I did,” Michael admitted, putting down the comic book.

“Why?” Brian all but snarled, looking seriously pissed off.

Michael sighed. “I have to start making money, Brian. I can’t live off of my mother anymore, going to school and pretending I’m any good at it,” Brian opened his mouth to protest, but Michael went on. “Don’t, Brian. I passed high school thanks to you, and that’s the truth. I got a job at the Big Q, and I’m gonna move out of my mom’s, get a place of my own.”

“Listen to me, Mikey. Are you listening?” Brian leaned close, touching his forehead against Michael’s.

“I’m listening,” Michael whispered.

“Don’t ever, ever, dare to say you’re stupid, or not good enough. Now, this is your choice to make, and I respect that. But why quit school? Why not work and study?”

“Because I can’t afford to work part time, Brian!” Michael exclaimed. “I mean, shit, you almost died ‘cause you were trying to help my mom out with the bills, and that shouldn’t have been your job in the first place!” The moment he finished speaking, Michael knew he’d fucked up. He didn’t even need to see Brian’s face, the silence was telling enough. 

“How do you know I collapsed?” Brian asked quietly.

“I – uh, I forced Justin to tell me,” Michael shrugged, biting his lip. 

“Justin,” Brian repeated, his jaw tense.

“He didn’t want to, but I just knew something was wrong. And you refused to tell me, Brian… I was worried. Don’t take it out on him, okay?”

“What I take or don’t take out on Justin is my business.” Brian seemed to pull himself back into the moment, and he examined Michael for a moment before speaking. “Listen, Mikey, you know that I’m happy to help Deb and Vic out. I didn’t do it ‘cause I had to. I did it ‘cause I wanted to. And if you need me to-”

“I know. I know you’d do anything for us,” Michael interrupted him. “But she’s my mom, Brian. It’s my job. I have to do this.”

Brian nodded. “Alright. Well, then, how about I buy you a drink at Woody’s, to celebrate your induction into the working world?”

Michael grinned, and they left the store to go to Woody’s. 

They sat down by the bar and Brian ordered the drinks. He handed Michael one of the beers and clinked it with his own. “To the real world,” he toasted. “Oh, how it fucking sucks.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Michael said. 

After two more beers, Brian said he had to go take care of something, but Michael decided to stay. He thought about his choices, his future. Things were so muddled, so fucked up. When he’d graduated from high school, he’d figured it was as easy as going to college, getting a job, and, bam!, your life started. A wonderful life. Somehow, every teacher and counselor hadn’t thought to mention how scary it was, going out into the world; how fucking complicated. 

“Well, you look like somebody ran over your pet goldfish, honey. What’s wrong?” a voice said, with the faintest hint of a Southern accent.

Michael looked up to see a tall, thin guy dressed in a sheer, hot pink shirt and tangerine leather pants. He stared at him for a moment before remembering his manners and answering, “Um, I had a bad day.”

“Well, tell me all about it,” the stranger sat down on the booth next to Michael. “Oh! But where are my manners! I’m Emmett Honeycutt,” he introduced himself with a smile.

“Michael Novotny,” he replied, shaking his hand, unconsciously smiling back.

“So, why did you have such a bad day, sweetie?” Emmett asked.

Something made Michael feel like he could trust this man. “Well, I quit college. I had to start working to help my mom out with the bills, and I have to move out of her house. So now I need to find an apartment, which I doubt I’ll be able to afford.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. But it could be worse,” he pointed out, sipping from the Cosmo the bartender had just put in front of him.

“Really?” Michael huffed. “How?”

“Your apartment building might have been burned down by the hooker that lived down the hall,” Emmett said.

“What?!” Michael almost choked on his beer. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better. As if that would happen.”

“Oh, trust me. It can certainly happen,” Emmett said, giving him a rueful smile.

“You mean-” Michael pointed at Emmett, eyes wide.

“Honey, why would I be wearing my fabulous club outfit at this hour if not because most of my worldly possessions are gone?” Emmett asked in dramatic a whisper. 

Michael had no idea. “Well, since your day seems to have sucked as much as mine, do you want to get shit-faced?” 

“Sure,” Emmett agreed, and asked the bartender for another Cosmo.

+

Brian paced the length of the living room back and forth, waiting for Justin. He’d had enough beers and shots of whiskey that he was concentrating on walking straight, but his anger kept him from being totally drunk. How dare Justin? How dare he tell Michael? It had been Brian’s choice, Brian’s secret. Now, Michael’s life was fucked to hell, and Debbie was having a world class freak out. Fucking Justin.

Finally, Brian heard the sound of the lock turning, the door opening. He watched Justin come in, take off his jacket and hang it by the door, dropping his goddam bag on the floor and, Brian was sure, scattering his shit all over. 

“Brian!” Justin exclaimed when he noticed him. He clutched his chest. “Fuck, you scared me! Why are you standing around in the dark?”

Brian said nothing, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Justin turned on the lights and approached Brian, looking at him almost cautiously. 

“Brian? Are you okay?”

“No, Justin. I’m not okay,” Brian answered at last. He turned his back on Justin and took a deep drag from his cigarette. 

“Oh. Does this have to do with me telling Michael about you collapsing?” Justin asked quietly.

Brian rolled his eyes, but didn’t turn around. 

“Because I know I shouldn’t have, but he just kept asking… and he had a right to know,” Justin said.

Brian whirled around, his face furious. “The fuck he did! I told you not to tell anybody, Justin. Especially him!” Brian shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair. “You know what he did, after you made your fucking confession? He quit school!”

Justin’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit doesn’t even begin to cover it. He quit school because you didn’t just tell him I collapsed, you had to mention I was trying to help Deb out,” Brian was pacing again, his entire body tense. Justin watched him, saying nothing. “So of course, Michael felt bad and decided quitting school and getting a job at the Big fucking Q was the right thing to do.”

“I really am sorry, Brian. But that was Michael’s decision, and his choice is _not_ my fault,” Justin said, shrugging. 

“Yes it fucking is! He wouldn’t have quit if he hadn’t found out what happened!” Brian leaned close to Justin, pointing a finger to his chest. “But of course, little Sunshine doesn’t give a damn about the consequences of his actions, does he? No, he’s far too busy dating left, right and center, too busy going to romantic concerts with that fiddle fuck to care about anybody else,” Brian spat out, voice mocking and vitriolic. 

“Oh, fuck you, Brian. Fuck you,” Justin said quietly. “It’s not my fault that you’re so fucking worried about being seen as anything less than invincible that you couldn’t even tell your best friend of nine years that you were stubborn and stupid enough to exhaust yourself into unconsciousness.” Justin gave him a bitter smile. “Oh, but of course Brian Fucking Kinney couldn’t. Why, he’s not a mortal like the rest of us. He doesn’t hurt, he doesn’t get tired, he doesn’t get sick, he doesn’t date… he doesn’t love.”

Brian didn’t reply. He simply stared at Justin, his cigarette forgotten and turning to ash in his hand. 

“What, no witty comeback?” Justin asked. “Just as well. I had a very long day, and I want to go to sleep.” With that, he walked to his room and closed the door. 

Brian heard the lock being set. Justin had never locked his door in two years of living together.

“Fuck,” Brian whispered. 

He didn’t know why he’d gone off like that. He was pissed at Justin for telling Michael, yes. But he’d figured that Michael would find out eventually, he’d already imagined the possibility. Michael could wear down a rock, and Justin wasn’t as patient as one. Hell, if Brian had been in the same situation, he knew he wouldn’t have made it for more than a minute of Michael’s pleading eyes and demanding questions. So why the fuck had he yelled at Justin like that? 

Brian headed to the window, stared out at the darkened street. It hadn’t been this thing about Michael, not really. Brian had been pissed off before that, ever since the date. The date that didn’t suck, the date with fucking Ian. Shit. And Brian had brought it up, had acted like a jealous fucking lesbian. 

Justin hadn’t taken any of his shit, though. He never did. He was probably the only person in the world who could humble Brian, because while Brian put up a good front, while he acted like he was always sure and in control, he was scared shitless so much of the time. Justin, well, Justin admitted when he was scared; he accepted the fear, and thus conquered it. Justin was so much more comfortable in his skin, so fully himself. If only…

“Enough,” Brian told himself quietly. There was no use in going down that road, no use in remembering that first night, or thinking of “if only-s”. The past was in the past, and Brian was no good for a present, let alone a future.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Brian ran quickly down the length of the field. The opposing team, already clued in to the fact that he was one of the best players, was making sure he was never uncovered, so there was always one guy or two blocking him, shadowing him. Brian was getting pissed off, so with a quick feint, he got rid of his mark and made for the goal.

“John! Over here!” he called out. His teammate looked up, nodded, and with one powerful kick, sent the ball to Brian. 

Brian moved to receive it, went left, then right, and kicked it hard to the exact place where he knew the goalkeeper wouldn’t catch it. The whistle blew, a roar went up among the crowd, and the commentator yelled, “Goal! Kinney scores for CMU!”

The score was now two to one, in favor of Carnegie Mellon, so the game became faster and more furious. The extra practices were paying off, since the other team was getting tired more quickly, but no extra practice made the players immune from fouls, and the game was also getting dirtier by the second. 

“Adams, McGuire! Go down, cover!” Brian yelled, directing his teammates. It was too late, though, and the opposing team scored. “Shit,” Brian muttered.

A time out was called, and the players headed to the bench.

“What the hell was that?!” Coach Jenkins raged. “You can’t afford to let them get even so quickly, be aggressive! Kinney, you need to be a real leader, you hear me? You can’t be a fucking fairy, be a captain!”

Brian said nothing, but he was seething. When he went back out into the field, all he could think about was fucking Jerkins, picking on him again, not caring that Brian was the one player doing something right. Justin, who was pissed off at him, who hadn’t talked to him in two days, who wasn’t here. Michael, working a minimum wage job at a piece of shit supermarket.

Rage filled Brian, and sadness. Jenkins wanted him aggressive? Fuck, he had him.

Brian started playing like a madman, running here and there, positioning his teammates, confusing the opposing team. He knew the game was about to end and that they had to score, but he was being marked more heavily than ever. Finally, he saw an opening. 

“Knowles!” he yelled. 

He ran to receive the ball that was kicked his way, fainted left to get rid of one of his marks, and ran furiously toward the goal. He gave one powerful kick and the ball sailed through the air, but Brian didn’t get a chance to see if he scored, because three guys came at him the exact moment after he’d kicked the ball. He didn’t know what happened, he just knew that one minute he was standing up, and the next he was on the floor, a burning pain in the center of his face. 

He opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see clearly, everything was blurry. He thought he could see Coach Jenkins, a medic, Lindsay, and Justin? No, that couldn’t be right. Fuck, it hurt. 

“It’s his nose. He needs to go to the hospital, get an X-ray,” he heard someone say. The medic, probably. Shit, his nose? Brian felt like crying, both for the pain and for vanity. 

“Brian? Can you stand up?” 

Brian nodded, and they slowly helped him up. Brian still couldn’t see much, so hands guided him out of the field. Brian had enough presence of mind to ask groggily, “Who won?”

“We did, Kinney!” Coach Jenkins replied. “You scored! It was a hell of a goal, way to go.”

Brian tried to give a damn, but his nose hurt too much. Plus, Jerkins being nice to him freaked him out. He closed his eyes and tried to keep from crying out. The medic helped him into the back of an ambulance, told him to lie down on the stretcher. 

“Can’t you give him something for the pain?” a voice close to him asked. “Please, he looks like he’s in so much pain,” it sounded like Justin. But it couldn’t be Justin, could it?

“He can’t be given anything until after he’s been checked over in the hospital, I’m sorry.”

“Jus…” Brian tried to ask.

“Shh, don’t try to speak, Brian.” Justin took his hand. “I’m here.”

+

Brian was feeling good. No, scratch that, he was feeling fucking great. He really needed to score some more of whatever they had given to him for later, he was on cloud nine. He tried to concentrate on what the doctor was saying, but if Justin’s grin and the doctor’s good natured smile were any indication, he wasn’t doing a very good job. 

“Um, sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

“I said you’re going to be fine,” the doctor repeated. “Your nose wasn’t actually broken, but your nasal septum was deviated by the blow, so you’re going to have to keep that tape on for about two weeks. You can take out the gauze tomorrow, but come back if there’s any evidence of blood on it, alright?”

“I’ll help him take it out, doctor, and if there’s bleeding I’ll bring him back,” Justin assured the doctor.

“Good. Well, here’s the prescription for pain killers, and I strongly suggest refraining from any heavy activity for at least a week. No smoking, either.”

Brian was horrified. No fucking _and_ no smoking? Just kill him now.

Justin laughed. “I’ll make sure he takes care of himself.”

Brian rolled his eyes. He felt like he was in a re-run, back in the hospital with Justin, who promised the doctors he’d make big, bad Brian behave. The doctor left, and Justin sat down on Brian’s bed.

“So, here we are again. You really love this place, huh?”

Brian glared at him. “Fuck you,” he croaked out.

Justin chuckled, but became serious again. “It was so fucking scary, Brian. I mean, you were there, running, shooting, and suddenly, you were on the floor, bleeding. It was horrible.”

Brian took Justin’s hand in his. “I thought you weren’t going to come to the game,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t,” Justin replied. “But I couldn’t stay away from the big game, now, could I?” he smiled.

Brian thought he smiled back, but most of his face was numb, so he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t actually slobbering. “I’m glad you came. And. Uh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” 

They both knew they weren’t talking about the game, or Brian being hurt. But it was okay, they understood each other, just like they always had. Suddenly, the door to the room opened and they both looked up to see Lindsay come in.

“Brian! Are you okay? They wouldn’t let me in before now,” Lindsay looked like she’d been crying, and she immediately smothered Brian with a hug.

“I’m fine, Linds, just messed up my nose a bit,” Brian assured her, awkwardly patting her back. “But, uh, easy on the goods, huh?”

“Oh, sorry” Lindsay exclaimed pulling back. “I’m so glad,” she breathed out, clearly relieved. “Do you want me to call Michael and Debbie?”

Brian thought about it for a moment, and glanced at Justin before answering. “Well, they’re gonna find out sooner or later. Better make it sooner. Just… please, tell them I don’t need any mothering, okay? I already have an overbearing roommate.”

Lindsay nodded and left to make the call. 

“Overbearing roommate, huh?” Justin asked, eyebrows raised.

“It’s a better description than fucking annoying twat, don’t you think?” 

Justin smiled, squeezed Brian’s hand, and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

+

Michael walked inside the diner with Emmett, desperate for a cup of coffee. He’d just finished a very long night shift at the Big Q, and he couldn’t complain. As the new guy, he got stuck with the worst shifts. When Emmett had called and asked to meet up, he figured he might as well stay up and get breakfast with him. They’d been hanging out a lot lately, ever since their random meeting at Woody’s – Emmett was seriously fun to hang out with. He had yet to meet Michael’s mother or Brian, however, and Michael hoped to run into at least one of them at the diner to introduce Emmett. 

Speak of the devil. “Hi, honey!” his mother called out the moment they walked in. “Who’s this?” she asked, pointing to Emmett.

“Mom, this is Emmett, a new friend of mine. Emmett, this is my mom, Debbie,” Michael introduced them.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” Emmett said, smiling. “Godiva has mentioned you - she says you’re the finest waitress in Liberty Avenue.”

“You know Godiva?” Debbie asked, surprised. Godiva was a legend in Liberty Avenue, and Michael had been just as amazed as his mom at the fact that she’d taken Emmett under her wing. 

“I sure do,” Emmett replied. “She took me in when I first arrived to Pittsburgh.”

“Well, sit down, sweetie, let me get you some breakfast. Any friend of Michael’s and Godiva’s is a friend of mine,” Debbie led them to one of the booths. “So, what’ll it be?” she asked, whipping out her pad once they were seated.

“I’ll have a cup of strong coffee and scrambled eggs,” Michael answered.

“Coffee, scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, orange juice,” Debbie muttered as she wrote his order down. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Um, I think I’ll have some milk and the blueberry banana pancakes,” Emmett said, looking up from the menu he’d been reading.

“Good choice, honey! Now, how do you like your bacon?” Debbie asked.

Emmett looked confused. “Bacon? But I-”

“He’ll have it like mine, Ma,” Michael interrupted. Debbie nodded and left to place the order. “Trust me, it’s easier to go along with her than to resist,” Michael explained.

“I’m starting to see that,” Emmett smiled. “Oh, look at that cutie pie!” he exclaimed, suddenly distracted by someone sitting behind Michael. “He’s a bit older than what I usually go for, but whew!” he gestured indiscreetly.

Michael turned to look, and had to agree. The man glanced up and noticed him looking, so Michael turned back, embarrassed. 

“Here you go, boys,” Debbie set down their order. “Coffee, milk, juice, eggs, pancakes, toast and bacon. I also brought a few English muffins.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Michael grinned at Emmett’s wide eyes. Their food took over the whole table.

“So, you were checking out hot stuff over there, huh?” Debbie asked, snapping her gum. “You know, he’s a doctor. I’d let him give me a physical any day.”

Emmett laughed, and Michael said, “Ma! We’re trying to eat here!”

When Debbie left to take another order, Michael opened the paper he’d brought. He needed to look for a decent apartment. He scanned the listings, trying to find anything remotely affordable. He was quickly losing heart, however; anything affordable sounded like a shit hole, and anything remotely decent, he couldn’t afford. 

“Shit,” he muttered.

“What is it, sweetie?” Emmett asked, through a mouthful of pancake. 

“Apartment hunting sucks when you’re poor,” Michael said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Well, I could’ve told you that. What are you looking for?” Emmett inquired, taking the paper from Michael and reading the Real Estate listings.

“I just want something reasonable, something decent, that’s not ridiculously expensive.”

“Hmm… Oh! Look, here’s one!” Emmett exclaimed, pointing to one of the ads.

“Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room,” Michael read. “It’s not in the best neighborhood, but it sounds good,” Michael agreed, reading. But when he got to the price, he frowned. “Oh, no. There’s no way I can afford that with what I’m earning right now,” Michael said, disappointed.

Emmett looked at Michael speculatively. “Well, there is one way you could afford it,” he said slowly.

“How?” Michael asked. He was open to any suggestion at this point, honestly. He would maybe draw the line at prostitution, but, anything else, he was game.

“A roommate,” Emmett explained. 

“Roommate?” Michael repeated. “But who? I don’t want to ask around and get some weirdo living with me.”

“Well, I can’t crash at Godiva’s anymore, the poor dear shouldn’t have to deal with me on top of everything else. And I’m not a psycho, I promise,” Emmett smiled nervously. 

“You’d be my roommate?” Oh, man, that would be perfect! Michael couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. Emmett had a steady job, so he’d have no trouble covering his half of the rent, and Michael was getting along with him perfectly.

“Oh, I know, it’s a terrible idea. I didn’t mean to impose, sweetie, I-” 

“Emmett, shut up. I’d love it if you were my roommate,” Michael interrupted, grinning.

“Really? Oh, yay!” Emmett clapped his hands. “Well, let’s call before this apartment gets snapped up.” He took out his cell phone and dialed the number given on the ad. 

“Hello? Yes, I’m calling about the apartment. A friend and I are interested in it, do you think we could stop by to see it? You do? Wonderful!” Emmett winked at Michael. “Yes, that time will be perfect, we’ll be there. Thank you,” Emmett closed his phone. “Done. We can go see it at noon.”

“Great,” Michael grinned. Things were finally looking up. His phone started ringing, and he glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Hey, Linds, what’s up?”

_“Hi, Michael. Um, listen, I’m here at the hospital with Brian.”_

“What?! What happened?” Oh, fuck. Another collapse? Was Brian doing something even more dangerous now?

_“He was injured during the soccer game earlier this morning. Three guys basically clobbered him after he shot a goal, and they hurt his nose. It’s not broken, but his nasal septum is probably deviated.”_

“Oh, shit. His nose? I bet Brian’s really pissed off. But he’s okay, right?” Michael asked worriedly.

_“He’s fine. He’s actually more than fine, they gave him some pretty good painkillers. We’re leaving in a bit, they’ve already discharged him. He just wanted you to know, and he wanted me to tell you not to worry, okay?”_

“Yeah, Linds, thank you.” Michael hung up. Well, at least it wasn’t too terrible, and, this time, he’d heard about it right away. 

“Is everything okay?” Emmett asked.

“It’s my best friend, he was injured playing soccer,” Michael explained.

“Brian was injured?” Debbie exclaimed. Neither Emmett nor Michael had noticed her approaching.

“Yeah, Lindsay just called me,” Michael replied. “He’s fine, but his nose got beaten up.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Debbie said. “Michael, I want you to go over to his place, I’m sending food. He’s gonna need nourishment.”

“If his nose was hurt, then he probably won’t be able to eat much,” Emmett pointed out sensibly. 

“Well, I’ll send a milkshake, too,” Debbie said, and bustled off to get the food ready.

When everything was ready, Debbie gave Michael a plastic bag with about seven food containers. 

“Ma! Brian’s hurt, he’s not required to feed an army!” Seriously, his mother thought every problem in the universe was solved with enough food.

“You shut up and take it to him, alright? And tell him to take care. And to rest properly. And to follow the doctors orders. Oh, and-”

“I’ll tell him everything, Ma, don’t’ worry,” Michael kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Bye, Debbie. It was lovely meeting you, thanks for breakfast,” Emmett said.

“Oh, no problem, honey. It was lovely to meet you, too.”

+

Michael and Emmett were buzzed inside Brian and Justin’s building by Lindsay. They walked up the stairs and Michael knocked on the door.

“Hi, Michael!” Lindsay greeted him, opening the door. “Who’s this?”

“Hi, Linds,” Michael kissed her cheek. “This is Emmett, my friend and soon to be roommate.”

“That’s me,” Emmett said, giving a little wave.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Lindsay smiled. “Come in, come in. What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the bags he was carrying.

“I come bearing food. Lots of food, under General Debbie’s orders,” Michael explained.

They walked inside the apartment, and quickly spotted Brian and Justin in the living room, sprawled on the couch.

“Brian! Are you okay?” Michael quickly walked to his friend’s side.

“I’m feeling no pain at the moment, Mikey,” Brian gave him a silly smile, looking decidedly high. He had quite a bit of bruising around his eyes and the white bandage covering his nose, but he looked alright otherwise, lounging in old brown sweats and no shirt. “Why the fuck did you bring all the food in the Liberty Diner with you?” he asked, noticing the tell-tale bags.

“My mom,” Michael shrugged. 

“Let me take it to the kitchen,” Justin said, standing up and taking the bag from Michael.

“I’ll help you,” Lindsay offered, and followed Justin. 

“So, are you gonna be scarred for life?” Michael asked, settling on the arm of the couch.

“Fuck you. Of course not, I’m still gonna be the hottest guy alive,” Brian said.

“No argument there,” Emmett breathed out. He’d been watching their interaction with amusement, and eating up a shirtless Brian with his eyes.

“Oh! Brian, I’d like you to meet Emmett. He’s gonna be my roommate,” Michael said, gesturing to Emmett.

Brian looked at the tall man, and Michael knew that, doped or not, he was taking in every detail, lemon-green shirt and the sequined jeans included. Emmett was hot, quite hot, but too much of a queen for Brian’s taste, Michael noted, which was another reason he’d make an ideal roommate – he wouldn’t be fucked away by Brian any time soon. 

“Hi, Emmett,” Brian eventually introduced himself. “I’m Brian, the ridiculously hot and tragically wounded best friend.”

“And I’m Justin, the overbearing roommate who has constant plans to do away with him,” Justin added, returning from the kitchen.

Emmett smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet both of you. We should all go to Babylon soon,” he suggested. 

Brian and Justin looked at each other, and wordlessly argued. “In a week,” they both said at the same time.

Emmett was glancing from Brian to Justin, completely bemused. Michael understood him – when the two of them got lost in their private language they were impossible to follow.

+

Brian’s ‘no smoking, no fucking’ week went by slowly, and Brian bitched every single second of it. He went to school and Ryder for his internship, but he obviously couldn’t go to soccer practice, and the doctor had advised him against Woody’s and Babylon because of the smoke and crowds. So Brian had stayed home every night, doing homework and projects, watching movies and eating what Justin prepared. 

Justin didn’t mind the slow week, and he ignored Brian’s bitching easily, because, to be honest, he was having a great time. He’d missed the easy camaraderie, the hanging out and making fun of this actor or another. Also, there was nothing funnier than Brian pretending he didn’t know the words to Lord of the Rings; seriously, the guy thought that just because he whispered Justin couldn’t hear. The same thing happened with Harry Potter; Justin remembered a day when he’d been looking for some condoms in Brian’s room and found a secret stash of every Harry Potter book published. Brian was such a freaking geek. A closet geek, but a geek nonetheless.

However, it wasn’t exactly like old times. There was something there, always, and it wasn’t hidden in the very depths of Justin’s consciousness anymore. In fact, it was as far from hidden as possible, it was like a fucking white elephant ambling around the living room, making Justin feel crowded and desperate. There was just no way that he could ignore how much he wanted Brian, how much he wanted him in every single way there was. 

The more Justin tried to ignore this, the more he tried to just stop wanting, the more Brian seemed to tempt him, blissfully unaware of his effect on Justin. Walking around shirtless and with his soccer shorts on; looking wounded and vulnerable and still so fucking hot, with that tape on his nose and the faint bruising around it; and, memorably, after taking one of his pain pills, declaring that Justin and he would make a fantastic Legolas and Aragorn. I mean, honestly, how could Justin resist that?

So, when the week passed and Ethan called on Wednesday, asking Justin if he’d like to have dinner, Justin jumped at the opportunity to leave the apartment, to distract himself with anything. 

“Where are you going?” Brian asked, after seeing Justin reasonably dressed up in grey slacks and a black turtleneck. 

“I’m having dinner with Ethan.”

“Where, McDonald’s?” Brian huffed. Justin knew that Brian thought very little of Ethan’s way to earn money. “The fucking fiddler should stop playing street corners and get a real job.”

“A real job would interfere with his practice time,” Justin replied, saying what Ethan told him all the time.

“You have a real job at the diner, and it doesn’t interfere with your painting time, does it?” Brian pointed out. 

“Ethan has a very artistic temperament,” Justin shrugged. 

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Right. Artistic. Whatever.”

“Well, anyway, I have to be going. Are you going out tonight?” Justin inquired, grabbing his jacket.

“I might. Don’t know yet.”

“Well, be careful if you do. It’s been a week, but your nose is still tender.” With that, Justin left. 

+

Justin and Ethan walked back to Justin’s apartment after dinner slowly, talking about their classes and the no-talent toadies that Ethan had to put up with in the PIFA orchestra sometimes; Ethan was desperate to be a soloist. Justin admitted was grateful that painting was a one-man show, but he didn’t agree with Ethan when it came to critics and reviews. Justin didn’t paint because of the glory, or the praise of the critics, though it was certainly a plus; he painted for himself, and because he had to. 

As they walked down Justin’s street, Ethan asked, “Justin, do you think… do you think I could come up?”

Justin hesitated for a moment. He and Brian had pretty basic tricking rules, which boiled down to “do it in your room”. Brian could bring whatever tricks he wanted, provided all the action took place in his bedroom, and the same went for Justin; they just had to stay out of the common areas, the living room and the kitchen. Oddly enough, it was precisely thinking of Brian tricking what made Justin say yes to Ethan’s request, and he refused to analyze why. 

“Um, yeah, sure. Come on up. I’m not sure if Brian is in or not, but we’ll have to be quiet if he’s asleep.”

Ethan nodded and followed Justin inside and up the stairs. When Justin opened the door to the apartment, he and Ethan froze underneath the doorway. There was somebody in the living room. 

Brian was fucking someone on the couch in the living room. The lights were on, and Justin immediately noticed, with a wrenching pain in the gut, that the trick was blond. In fact, he looked like Justin to a startling degree. 

“I’m in the middle of someone here, boys,” Brian grunted between thrusts. “Not that I mind an audience.” 

Justin glanced at Ethan, who was staring at Brian and the trick open-mouthed. Yeah, Ethan probably didn’t mind being the audience all that much, either, but Justin did. Without a word, he turned and left. 

Ethan caught up with him in the street. “Justin! Are you alright? Do you want to stay over at my place?”

Justin took a deep breath. “No, thanks Ethan. I’ll stay with Daphne.” 

He started walking in the direction of Daphne’s apartment, not caring that it was the middle of the night, not caring that the apartment was miles away. He needed to breathe, he needed to stop shaking. He needed to stop seeing Brian fucking that blond trick, Justin’s goddamned double. 

Justin’s double, but not Justin.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Emmett glanced up from his magazine when he heard the bell over the store’s door - a costumer had just walked into Torso. It was the same guy who’d been coming here almost every day for two weeks, Ted. He usually looked around, grabbed a few shirts to try on which he then wouldn’t try on, and after some a few nervously exchanged words, he always ended up buying a pair of white socks, lube and a dildo.

“Hi, Ted. How are you today?” Emmett greeted him.

“Um… uh, hi Emmett. I’m good, you?” Ted answered nervously.

“I’m fabulous,” Emmett smiled. “So, what are you looking for today?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just looking around,” Ted answered, picking up a leather harness, without noticing what he was taking. “I think I’ll try this on.” 

“Oh, you’re into leather? My, my, I do like my men mysterious and versatile,” Emmett winked.

“Leather?” Ted asked, confused. Emmett pointed at the harness he was holding. Ted glanced down at what he’d picked up and dropped it quickly. “I think I’ll just buy a pair of socks,” he mumbled.

“Listen, Teddy? Can I call you Teddy?” Emmett asked. Ted cringed, but nodded. “You’ve been coming here for two weeks. Not that I mind, I love a loyal costumer, but you never buy anything other than socks. And this isn’t exactly a sock store,” Emmett gestured to the many piles of glittery shirts, the multi-colored leather pants, the feather boas and sequined accessories. “What are you really looking for?”

Ted was silent for a moment. Then, with a miserable sigh, he said, “I want to buy some club clothes, ‘cause I want to go to a club, but-”

“Say no more,” Emmett took Ted’s hand and led him to the dressing room. “I, Emmett Honeycutt, couturer extraordinaire, will set you up with the most fabulous club outfit ever.” Once Ted was inside one of the changing rooms, Emmett said, “Stay here, get comfortable, and I’ll be right back with a few choices.”

He made his way around the store, picking up a few things and returning quickly. “Okay, try this on,” he indicated, handing Ted the first outfit. 

Ted took in the clothes Emmett thrust into his hands. Sheer fabrics, leather, sequins, vibrant colors. Fabulous stuff, if Emmett did say so himself. “Um, this isn’t really my style,” Ted grimaced.

Emmett looked Ted up and down, critically examining the old-fashioned chinos, the solid blue polo shirt, the respectable looking belt and shoes. “Maybe you need a new style, honey. You can’t go into Babylon looking like an accountant.”

“I _am_ an accountant.”

“Oh!” It figured. Emmett sighed. Ted really did need him. “Well - the whole point of dressing up to go clubbing is to forget who you are during the working day,” Emmett said. “Go on, try those things on.”

Ted shrugged and went inside the dressing room. He came out after a few minutes, wearing tight purple jeans and a plum colored t-shirt one size too small. 

“You look wonderful, honey!” Emmett clapped.

“I don’t think purple’s really my color,” Ted said, looking himself over in the mirror.

“Hmm, purple is a difficult color,” Emmett agreed. “Not everyone can wear it. It’s like tangerine.” 

And Emmett knew that not everybody was blessed with his wonderful, color-matching complexion. Still, he’d given Ted a few other good choices.

Ted went back inside and tried on a different outfit. This time, he was wearing orange jeans and a slightly ruffled white shirt. “You know, I don’t think orange or any of its derived colors are my thing, either.” 

“Well, how about this?” Emmett gave Ted a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt. It was the simplest outfit he’d chosen, but with a tiny, fabulous touch. 

“Hmm.” Ted examined the jeans carefully, but didn’t really look at the t-shirt. “Yeah, this is good,” Ted smiled. “I’ll take it.” He and Emmett headed to the cash register.

“Great! So, how would you like to wear your new outfit tonight?” Emmett asked, marking up the clothes. Emmett hoped he didn’t seem too pushy, but Ted seemed to be a very nice guy, he just needed to get out more, start making friends, to finally come out of his shell.

“Tonight?” Ted asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Emmett smiled. “I’m going to Babylon with my roommate and a few of his friends. Would you like to come?” 

Ted hesitated. “Oh, I’m not sure.”

“Come on, Teddy, I swear you’ll have fun. What’s the point of owning fantastic club clothes if you don’t go clubbing?” Emmett cajoled. 

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll go,” Ted finally acquiesced. 

“Wonderful! Meet me outside of Babylon at ten, alright?” 

Emmett was sure Ted would have a wonderful time tonight. He still remembered his first time at a gay club – the lights, the music, the men. After all those years being treated like dirt back in Hazelhurst, he’d felt like he was finally home, like he wasn’t the odd one out – like he was just right. Nowadays, whenever some silly straight guy tried to mock his flame, he recalled that feeling, remembered that he was just right the way he was. And fuck ‘em all. 

+

“So who did you invite to Babylon?” Michael called out from his room, where he was putting on his blue Superman t-shirt. Honestly, that boy was a lost ‘cause, with all his superheroes. 

“This guy, Teddy,” Emmett replied. “He’s a great costumer at the store, he’s been in more times than me in the past two weeks,” he chuckled. He was in the bathroom, giving his hair the last touches. 

“Oh, so he could have the hots for you,” Michael grinned, walking into the bathroom.

“I don’t think so,” Emmett shook his head. “He was just really nervous, ‘cause I think he’s never been to a club before.”

“How old is he?” Michael frowned.

“Actually, I think he’s older than you,” Emmett said, examining his face closely in the mirror. He didn’t want to walk into Babylon sporting a zit or something equally embarrassing. Not that the face was what the guys checked out first, and, thankfully, Emmett had a fabulous ass. The pants he was wearing really showcased it, too.

“And he’s never been to a club?” Michael asked incredulously. 

“Well, not every guy blooms at the same time,” Emmett said reasonably. “I mean, he probably didn’t come out too long ago.”

“That’s true. We should have him meet my mom, she’d make sure he’s as out and proud as he can be.”

“Honey, we don’t want to scare him off the first night he goes out with us. We can take him to breakfast tomorrow,” Emmett grinned. “So, are Brian and Justin coming?”

“Brian is definitely coming, he’s been going out like crazy this week. Making up for lost time, I guess. I’m not sure if Justin is, he and Brian are going through a weird moment.”

“Those two need to get their heads out of the sand and fuck,” Emmett muttered.

“What?” Michael asked.

“Oh, nothing, honey. I hope they make up soon.” Emmett wasn’t stupid enough to repeat himself, he knew Michael was dealing with a very unrequited crush on Brian. 

“They’re Brian and Justin. They always make up,” Michael shrugged. “Come on, let’s go.”

There was already a line of guys waiting to go in when Michael and Emmett arrived to Babylon. Emmett looked around for Ted, and found him somewhere near the end of the line.

“Teddy! Over here!” he waved. Ted noticed him and walked over.

“Hi, Emmett,” he said. 

“Hi! Teddy, I’d like you to meet my roommate, Michael,” Emmett put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Michael, this is Teddy.”

“Theodore Schmidt,” Ted amended, holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Theodore Schmidt. I’m Michael Novotny,” Michael smiled, shaking his hand. “You look great.”

Ted blushed. He was wearing the last outfit Emmett had given him, and he seemed to be a bit self-conscious. Perhaps it was due to the fact that ‘I Love Boys’ was spelled out in the front of his t-shirt with hot pink glitter, but Emmett thought it gave him a special touch.

“Well, shall we go inside?” Emmett took him by the arm.

“Don’t we have to wait in line?” Ted asked, looking back at the long line of men waiting.

“No, sweetie. We know the bouncer. Come on.”

The minute they walked in, Ted stared around him with open-mouthed fascination. Michael and Emmett smiled at his obvious delight. 

“Welcome to the thumpa-thumpa,” Michael said, gesturing around them.

They walked to the bar and ordered drinks. Ted couldn’t take his eyes off the go-go boys, or the half-naked guys dancing and walking around. 

“So, what do you do, Ted?” Michael asked, leaning in closer.

“I’m an accountant. I actually just started working in a really good firm, Wortschafter’s,” Ted replied.

“Wow, that’s great. Congratulations,” Michael grinned.

Ted blushed again. Emmett looked at him suspiciously. Ted couldn’t have fallen for Michael, could he? His speculations were interrupted by the arrival of Brian, who looked delicious in a sleeveless black shirt and tight, dark jeans.

“Hi, Brian!” Michael greeted him, smiling.

“Mikey,” Brian said, and leaned down to give him a peck on the lips. 

Emmett glanced at Ted, and the look of disappointment and slight jealousy he could see on his face confirmed his thoughts: Ted had a bit of a crush on Michael.

“Hello, Brian. You look great tonight,” Emmett looked Brian up and down.

Brian smirked. “When don’t I look great?”

Emmett laughed and rolled his eyes. The man had a point. “This is Ted Schmidt, a friend of mine.”

Brian raised an eyebrow and pointed to Ted’s t-shirt. “Stole that from your closet, did he?” he asked Emmett.

“Oh, shut up,” Emmett gave him a little shove in the arm. “He looks wonderful. Why don’t you go fuck someone, or something?”

“Oh, I intend to. But man cannot live on fucks alone,” Brian raised the drink he’d just ordered. He drank the Beam in one go, and giving them a feral grin, said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

Their eyes followed him as he made his way to the dance floor and grabbed a trick by the waistband, leading him into the backroom.

“Who’s _he_?” Ted asked.

“That is none other than Brian Kinney,” Emmett replied. “The hot, young stud of our illustrious Liberty Avenue.”

“And my best friend,” Michael added.

“Oh,” Ted breathed out.

+

Brian had been avoiding Justin all day long. 

When Justin went back to the apartment to change after spending the night at Daphne’s, Brian was nowhere to be found. Justin made his way to school and tried to forget the night before, throwing himself whole-heartedly into his classes. Still, the anger and pain he was feeling were never far from the surface. He worked a shift at the diner, and avoided Deb’s questions as to why he was sad and rather short-tempered. He hated how he couldn’t keep himself from glancing up and hoping to see the familiar, tall figure every time the damn bell above the door rang.

He thought he might catch Brian in the late evening, but again, Brian didn’t show up. By the time Justin had finished with dinner and a movie, it was ten thirty, and he knew Brian was probably already inside someone’s ass in Babylon. 

With a sigh, Justin walked into his room. He undressed, and he was about to lie down on his bed, when he made a sudden choice. “No. I need to see him.” 

He needed to see Brian, to yell at the asshole, to tell him how fucked up and fucking horrible he’d acted. He’d gone against the rules, knowing full well Justin was going out and might bring Ethan back to the apartment. It couldn’t stay like this. They had to talk, and talk now. 

Throwing on some jeans and a blue sleeveless shirt, Justin went to Babylon. He walked in, scanning the place for Brian. He didn’t see him, but he did notice Michael, Emmett and some guy he didn’t know leaning against the bar.

“Hey,” he greeted them after he’d made his way over.

“Hi, Justin,” Michael nodded.

“Hi, sweetie!” Emmett smiled, and hugged him. “You look fabulous!”

Justin snorted. “I was about to go to sleep, Emmett. I really doubt I do. But thank you.”

“This is Ted Schmidt,” Emmett said, gesturing to the guy next to him.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Justin,” he said, giving him a small smile. “Nice shirt.”

Ted blushed furiously and muttered something intelligible. 

“Have you seen Brian?” Justin asked, looking around.

Emmett bit his lip, apparently mortified, but Michael rolled his eyes and answered, “Backroom, as usual.”

Justin nodded, and walked across the dance floor. He stepped into the backroom, dodging the hands reaching out for his ass.

“Hey, Todd,” he greeted one of the guys being fucked. “How’s it going?”

“Uh – good,” Todd gasped.

Justin kept walking until he saw him. Looking sinfully good, leaning against one of the walls, eyes closed, getting a blowjob. Justin stopped in front of him, shoved the trick at his knees out of the way.

“You should get in line, like everyone else,” Brian smirked, keeping his eyes closed.

“I don’t want to get in line. I want to know why you’re such a fucking asshole,” Justin hissed.

Brian opened his eyes, all traces of cool unconcern gone.

+

Brian had unceremoniously kicked the blond trick out right after coming. Which had been harder than he’d admit, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Justin’s face when he’d seen them fucking on the couch. After the trick was gone, he sat in the living room, waiting for Justin to come home. He never did. Dawn came, and with a sigh, Brian set up the coffee maker and went into the bathroom to take a shower. 

Justin still wasn’t back by the time Brian was dressed and consuming more than half of the coffee pot. He didn’t have breakfast, perhaps in an unconscious bait, hoping that Justin might be drawn from wherever he was to bug the shit out of Brian and make him eat something, but nothing happened. Brian was twenty minutes late for class because he’d hung around the apartment longer than he should have, and even Lindsay’s good natured ribbing about staying up too late fucking didn’t make him smile. 

However, somewhere in the middle of a lecture on Consumer’s Psychology, Brian stopped being worried and started getting pissed off. What the fuck was Justin’s problem, anyway? I mean, yeah, Brian had broken the tricking rules, but it was the first time ever. Justin was out with Ian, anyway, so he had no business walking into Brian’s fuck. And what the hell was his problem, not coming home? Didn’t he know Brian would worry? Brian shouldn’t have worried. The little twat wasn’t his responsibility. Fuck him. 

Intentionally busying himself with classes and finishing a project in the library, Brian didn’t go back home. He had a change of clothes in his locker, he was always prepared, so he didn’t leave school until almost ten o’ clock at night. He picked up a muffin in the Liberty Diner on his way to Babylon, and willfully ignored all of Deb’s ill-concealed hints about why “Sunshine was in such a bad mood today.”

“Sunshine’s not my fucking responsibility,” Brian replied shortly, and left.

He walked into Babylon and headed to get a drink and say hello to Mikey, who was in his usual spot by the bar. Emmett was there as well, looking as flaming as ever, but Brian kinda enjoyed how out there he was – it took fucking guts to be a real queen. There was another guy with them, Tad or Ted or something, who looked sinfully boring and quite ridiculous in a sequined t-shirt that obviously belonged to Emmett, or should. After kicking back a Beam, he found himself a trick and headed to the backroom.

Brian was trying to enjoy the blowjob, but the guy was mediocre at best, even after Brian took a bump to heighten the experience. He felt the guy being shoved out of the way by someone, and, without opening his eyes, said, “You should get in line, like everyone else.”

“I don’t want to get in line. I want to know why you’re such a fucking asshole.”

Shit. Justin found him. Brian opened his eyes, took in his glaring roommate, wearing old jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt at least one size too small. He looked fucking hot.

“It comes naturally,” Brian finally replied with a grin.

“Don’t give me that fucking grin, Brian!” Justin yelled. “And I’ll have a real answer, no sarcasm on the side. You broke the rules, you know full well you did.”

Brian shrugged. “I thought you weren’t gonna get back so early. Plus, Ian seemed to be enjoying the show.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Justin raged, stepping closer to Brian. “You knew I was going to see you. Why did you do it?”

Brian didn’t answer, he simply looked at Justin. The lights of the backroom made his blue eyes glow strangely, made his hair look white - made him look beautiful. Justin always looked great, but it was times like these, when he took Brian’s breath away, that it was hard to remember why they hadn’t fucked all that time ago.

“Why? Answer me!” Justin demanded.

Brian swallowed, and closed his eyes. He felt Justin turn, and quickly reached out to hold him by the arm. Justin looked back at him, pissed off. Brian tugged him close and kissed him, as inevitable as breathing. After the briefest hesitance, Justin started kissing him back, pushing Brian against the wall of the backroom, running a hand inside Brian’s half-open shirt, caressing his stomach. Brian grabbed the back of Justin’s head, tugging his hair slightly. The kiss was deep, wet, and beyond fucking hot. 

Justin suddenly broke the kiss, leaning back. He was breathing rapidly, as was Brian, and his eyes were dilated. He gazed at Brian with a question in his eyes, with more than one question. Unwilling or unable to answer verbally, Brian buttoned up his jeans and took Justin by the hand, leading him out of the backroom.

If they were going to do this, they needed to do it right.

+

The ride back to the apartment in Brian’s Jeep was strangely quiet, the silence was charged and heavy with anticipation, with lust. Brian’s hands were shaky on the steering wheel, and he nearly crashed into a tree when Justin placed a hand high on his thigh. Justin chuckled, but Brian could see the nervous energy coursing through him in the way he kept drumming his fingers against the car door. They both practically leapt out of the car when Brian parked in his space, and they ran up the stairs to their apartment. 

Once inside, Justin stopped in the middle of the living room, staring at Brian with expectation, and just a touch of fear. It reminded Brian of the very first night they’d met, how Justin had stood exactly the same way, afraid and incredibly brave at once. Brian closed the door and shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it by the doorway. He slowly walked toward Justin, until he stopped right in front of him. He tilted his head down, but paused just before kissing him, asking permission wordlessly. Justin gave the smallest of nods, and Brian captured his lips. Justin moaned, melting into the kiss quickly, clutching Brian’s arms. 

“Your room or mine?” Brian breathed into his ear.

“Yours.”

Brian nodded, relieved. He might’ve felt too pressured in Justin’s room. They made their way clumsily to his room, kissing and licking while trying to walk. After Brian caught Justin before he tripped, he smirked and said, “See, this is why I’m always telling you to pick up your shit.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up and fuck me, Brian.”

Brian gave Justin a heated gaze. “You got it.”

Once they were in his room, Brian undressed Justin, slowly taking off his t-shirt and his jeans. He kissed every inch he uncovered, licking and nipping, twirling his tongue around Justin’s nipples. Justin moaned, and tugging Brian’s shirt, said, “You, too. Wanna see you.”

Brian grinned and unbuttoned his shirt and jeans. He took them off, and Justin sat down on the bed, gazing up at him with undisguised lust. 

“Like what you see, Sunshine?”

“I’ve always liked it,” Justin whispered, and brought Brian closer, grabbing his hips and taking his cock into his mouth. Brian couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of Justin sucking his dick, and he bit his lip to keep from moaning. 

“Fuck, Justin. I didn’t know you could suck dick like that.”

Justin hummed around his cock, and Brian gasped. He brought Justin up, desperate to kiss him, to fuck him. He made Justin lie down on his stomach, and licked a trail from the very top of his spine to his ass. Justin was nearly incoherent, rubbing himself against the bedding. Brian smirked at the effect the rim job was having - he’d waited two fucking years to give it, after all. 

Finally, unable to resist any longer, he made Justin turn. Justin whimpered at the loss of Brian’s tongue in his ass, but when he understood he’d soon have Brian’s dick inside, he stopped complaining. He followed Brian’s movements with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, and smiled when Brian grabbed the lube and a condom from the bedside table. 

Brian gently lifted Justin’s legs onto his shoulders.

“Uh, Brian… go slow, okay? I’ve only done this once, a while ago,” Justin said, quietly. 

Brian raised an eyebrow in surprise, but then remembered he’d only ever seen Justin top in the backroom. So he nodded, giving Justin a small smile. He put on the condom, and opened the lube. When he squirted a generous amount on Justin’s hole, Justin gasped, “It’s cold.”

“It’ll heat up,” Brian assured him, then kissed him.

Slowly, but steadily, he entered Justin. He gasped at the heat that surrounded him, and Justin winced at the intrusion.

Brian kissed him again, and said, “I want you to always remember this, so that no matter who you’re ever with – I’ll always be there.”

Justin bit his lip and brought Brian’s face close to kiss him. When Brian felt that Justin had adjusted, he started moving rhythmically. Soon, as if they’d done this forever, Justin was arching up, meeting his thrusts. Brian adjusted his angle to hit Justin’s prostate, and when he did, Justin moaned loudly. Fuck, Brian couldn’t believe Justin was under him, looking debauched and fucking gorgeous. 

Brian touched every inch of Justin’s skin, allowing himself a second to marvel at the fact that he could, that for this moment in time, Justin wasn’t his friend, wasn’t his roommate – Justin was his lover. He adjusted his grip on Justin’s legs, fucked into him deeper, wanting to get closer. Justin groaned, gripping Brian’s shoulders, moaning his name. 

All too soon, Brian felt Justin tightening around him, and with a gasp, Justin was coming. Brian came immediately after, resting his face against Justin’s shoulder. 

“That was amazing,” Justin breathed.

Brian looked up, and smiled. It had been. He gave Justin a long kiss before slowly pulling out. He tied the condom off and threw it into the trash-can by the bedside table. When he glanced at back, he noticed Justin was asleep already. He brushed his hair out of his forehead, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Sunshine,” he whispered, and lay down next to him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Justin woke up slowly, and he was reluctant to open his eyes; he was far too comfortable. He shifted on the bed, and was surprised to feel a body next to him. He quickly opened his eyes and met sleepy hazel ones. Brian. Justin realized with a jolt he’d slept in Brian’s bed. He’d had sex with Brian. Memories of the night came back to him: the fight, the kiss in the backroom, tripping, stripping, giving Brian a blow job, being rimmed by Brian, being fucked by Brian…

“Morning, Sunshine.”

Justin smiled, “Morning, Brian.”

They stared at each other for a while, and it was during the silence that Justin felt panic set in. He had sex with Brian. Fuck. In his fantasies, what happened next was always pretty amazing: Brian would kiss him, fuck him again, and then declare his love for Justin. However, thinking as a realistic, intelligent human being, he knew that what happened next would be Brian discarding him like another trick. And, fuck! What could this do to their friendship? Justin didn’t want to fuck up their friendship, it meant too much to him.

“Justin, stop freaking out.”

“What? How can you -” Justin stuttered. 

Brian rolled his eyes. “You’re thinking so loudly I can hear you. Plus, you have that face you get whenever you’re considering something and trying not to panic about the conclusions you’re making.”

Justin huffed. He so didn’t get a face. Did he? Oh, god, what if he did? 

“Don’t worry, it’s a good face,” Brian assured him.

Justin scowled. Brian always thought he knew what Justin was thinking. Usually, he did know, which kinda bothered Justin, but it also made him feel warm and… fuck! This brought him back to his previous panic attack. Their friendship! Brian knew Justin so well precisely because they were such great friends, and this past night could ruin everything.

“Okay, so would you like to tell me what’s freaking you out this badly?” 

Justin hesitated, and, nervously playing with a loose thread in the duvet, replied, “Our friendship.”

“Our friendship?” Brian repeated, eyebrow raised.

“Losing our friendship,” Justin clarified.

“Because of last night?” Brian asked. Justin nodded apprehensively. “Justin, it doesn’t need to be more than a fuck. A great fuck, but. You don’t have to tie yourself up in knots about it.”

Justin looked at Brian sharply. Just a fuck?

“Listen, I – I’d hate to lose your friendship, too,” Brian confessed quietly. “And last night was great, for us both, I think. It was hot, and it was fun. But it doesn’t have to be anything else.”

Justin was about to protest, when he realized Brian was saying all that for him, to calm his fears. Brian was making sure their friendship was protected, and the only way to do that was to look at last night as a simple fuck. The damned problem was that Justin wanted more than just a fuck, and he also wanted the friendship, but there was no way of having both ways. 

So, resigned, he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Brian smirked. “Now, I have to go take a shower and go to soccer practice. I bet fucking Jerkins is gonna be on my case, even though I got injured for winning the damn game.”

Justin stared after Brian, unable to keep himself from admiring the slim body, the tight muscles, the slightly tanned skin. The body that had been his, at last. The body he’d let go. With a sigh, he got out Brian’s bed and made his way to the kitchen. He needed some good comfort food.

Justin was sitting in a stool by the kitchen counter when Brian walked in, showered and dressed for practice.

“Ice-cream, Justin? It’s too fucking early,” Brian was incredulous.

Justin shrugged. “I felt like it.” He got up and handed Brian a plate. “I made you some eggs, and toasted some whole-wheat. Coffee will be done in a second.”

Brian rolled his eyes, but sat down and started eating. Justin poured the coffee and prepared Brian’s by dumping half the sugar pot in it. He didn’t know why Brian felt like he could criticize Justin for eating ice-cream at this hour when Brian was setting himself up for diabetes with all the sugar he always put in his coffee. 

“Here you go,” he handed Brian his cup.

Brian nodded his thanks and drank it down in one go. “Ah, I needed that.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood up. “I have to go. Thanks for breakfast.” He grabbed his duffel bag, school bag and portfolio, and after giving Justin a peck on the lips, he left. 

Justin finished his pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, which he loved even though Brian complained about the name. Then he headed to the phone and dialed.

“Daph? Emergency. Nine fucking one one.” 

+

Justin was immersed in a sketch, waiting for Daphne near the entrance of the Art Building, when Ethan walked up to him.

“Hey, Jus.”

Justin looked up, and fought to keep a groan from escaping. He was feeling enough confusion about last night without adding any guilt about Ethan and whatever their occasional dating could be called. “Hey, Ethan,” he finally replied.

“I didn’t see you all day yesterday, so I was hoping you might like to have lunch with me today.”

A car stopped nearby and honked. Justin recognized Daphne’s car, and he gave Ethan an apologetic grin. “Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t. Daphne’s here to take me to lunch. But, uh, I’ll see you later.” He ran to the passenger seat door and quickly hopped inside. 

“Where’s the fire?” Daphne asked, smiling.

“Oh, um, Ethan was inviting me to lunch.”

“Well, I don’t actually like him, but I could tolerate him for an afternoon if you want him to come with us,” Daphne shrugged.

“No!” Justin exclaimed. Daphne gave him an odd look. “Um, no, I need to talk to you alone.”

“Oookay. So, wanna go to the diner?” 

Justin quickly shook his head. “Let’s just go to the park, we’ll eat something from the vendors.”

Armed with hot dogs, sodas and coffee, Justin and Daphne walked around the park until they found a suitable bench to sit on. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Daphne asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Justin took a deep breath. “Brian and I fucked last night.”

Daphne spat out the drink of soda she’d just taken. “What?! Oh, my god, this is huge! How did it happen?”

“I, uh, I went to Babylon to yell at him for breaking the tricking rules. He was in the backroom, so I went there and I was scolding him, and then… he kissed me.”

Daphne was wide-eyed and smiling with anticipation. Then she frowned a bit. “You fucked in the backroom?”

“No, no. We just kissed in the backroom. Then, Brian led me out by the hand and we went home, and we fucked.”

“Whoa,” Daphne breathed out. “So how was it?”

Justin rolled his eyes. 

Daphne shoved him in the arm, and said, “Come on, you can’t just say “we fucked”, dish!”

Justin bit his lip, and, finally, grinned. “Okay. It was amazing. I’ve never felt anything like that, with anyone. Oh, god, Daph… the way he kissed me, licked every bit of my body, the way he fucked me! It was incredible.”

Daphne grinned. “So?”

“So what?”

“What now? Are you guys together, or what?”

Justin looked away. “No, we’re not.”

“Why?” Daphne was taken aback.

“We decided it was just a fuck. We didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” Justin explained.

“Oh, fuck that, Justin! You know it wasn’t just a fuck. You’ve wanted more than friendship with Brian ever since the night you met him,” Daphne leaned close to Justin, speaking with quiet intensity. “I mean, if you could only see how you two act around each other! Whatever you say, whatever you want to pretend – you don’t just love Brian. You’re in love with Brian. And, trust me, he’s in love with you.”

Justin said nothing. Maybe Daphne was right, but he couldn’t risk it, could he? What if it meant he’d lose Brian, for good? Being his friend was better than nothing at all. Fuck, he was so confused.

+

After lunch with Daphne, Justin went back to school and had an incredibly productive day at the studio. It was so fucking cliché he wanted to give himself a slap on the face, but angst really was productive. 

“That’s a very intense piece, Justin. It transmits confusion and pain,” his teacher, Miss McIntire, remarked.

“Yeah,” Justin sighed. Confusion and pain were exactly what he was feeling, alright.

When he got home, he looked around for Brian, but realized he was probably still at Ryder at this hour. He worked on an essay he needed to do for Sculpture class, comparing and contrasting the work of Rodin and Michelangelo. He was about to finish when he heard the lock turning, and looked up to see Brian come in. He was wearing a suit, as he always did when he went to the agency, and Justin had to wonder if it was possible for Brian not to look hot in something. 

“Hey, Brian. Long day?” 

Brian grimaced. “You could say that. Jenkins was a fucking asshole, as predicted, and my supervisor in Ryder nearly fucked up a presentation. I saved his ass, and he took all the credit with Ryder.”

“That sucks,” Justin commiserated. 

He got up from his desk and went to the kitchen to get some Cheerios. Brian went into the kitchen for some water, and Justin grabbed the refrigerator handle at the same moment Brian did. They stared at each other, unmoving. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Justin said, eventually, and moved his hand. 

Brian said nothing, just opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a water bottle. He handed Justin the milk. Justin poured some into his cereal, and started eating. An awkward silence filled the kitchen, and Justin felt out of sorts. Brian drank water, avoiding Justin’s eyes. 

When Justin finished his cereal, he moved to put his bowl in the sink at the same time Brian moved to grab an apple, and they bumped into each other. They stood in a strange impasse once again, and before Justin could mutter another apology, Brian leaned down and kissed him. Justin kissed him back, accidentally dropping the cereal bowl on the floor, not caring too much since it was plastic. Brian’s arms surrounded Justin, bringing him closer to his body, and Justin caressed Brian’s back. 

“Living room,” Brian breathed, and walked Justin backwards out of the kitchen, alternating between kissing him and nipping at his ears and neck. They made it to the couch and fell on it, shaky hands trying to undress one another. 

Finally, Justin managed to take Brian’s jacket off, and Brian helped by taking off his tie and shirt. Justin unbuckled Brian’s belt, unbuttoned his pants and started massaging Brian’s hard dick through the cottony fabric of his shorts. Brian moaned, and pulled down Justin’s cargo pants. Justin had never been happier to go commando in his life. 

They kissed frantically, and Justin whispered, “Fuck me, Brian.”

Brian leaned back, quickly looking for a condom and a tiny bottle of lube in the pocket of his pants. He took off his pants and shorts, and pulled Justin’s cargoes all the way down. After putting on the condom and squirting lube onto his fingers, he pushed one inside Justin’s hole to prepare him. Justin threw his head back, clutched his hair with one of his hands. He felt Brian press in a second finger, and then three. He needed more, more. “Fuck me, fuck me,” he panted.

Soon, he felt Brian’s dick entering, stretching him. He arched his hips to meet Brian’s thrusts, taking him deeper inside. When Brian hit his prostate, Justin saw white, moaned loudly. 

It was too much. Brian was too much, and fuck – this felt too good. Justin couldn’t give it up, not now, not after he finally had it. 

Justin’s toes pointed, and he started to come, spurting between his body and Brian’s. He felt Brain coming as well, and with a satisfied groan, they both collapsed. Justin didn’t mind Brian’s weight on top of him, didn’t want him to pull out yet. 

Eventually, Brian pulled out, took off the condom and tied it. He got up, went to the kitchen and dropped the used condom in the trash-can, returned with his water bottle and paper wipes. He sat down next to Justin and gently cleaned him off, offering him some water. Justin accepted and drank thirstily, while Brian lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

Justin glanced at Brian, taking in the beautiful profile he knew so well. Maybe it was worth it. Maybe Daphne was right, after all. Justin made his decision. He’d tell Brian he wanted more than friendship, and that he wanted this to be more than just a fuck.

Before he could speak, however, Brian turned to face him, and started to talk.

+

Brian didn’t sleep too much, that night. Not with Justin lying next to him, not with the memory of all they had done in constant replay in his brain. He slept for an hour, maybe two, but he was soon awake, looking at Justin sleep. Some part of him wished the morning wouldn’t come, because the morning would mean facing consequences and saying words he was no good at saying. But, inevitably, dawn sneaked in through the blinds, and Brian waited while daylight filled the room, and brought whatever confrontation was coming closer. 

Finally, Justin stirred next to him. Brian gazed at him, noticed how Justin realized he wasn’t alone or in his own bed, and opened his eyes. Brian could read the thoughts in those blue eyes, the wondering and the realization, the memories.

“Morning, Sunshine.”

“Morning, Brian,” Justin replied, yawning. They were silent, then, and Brian kept on looking at Justin, waiting for the fall out that was sure to come. He could tell when Justin started thinking, when he started panicking, and told him, “Justin, stop freaking out.”

The conversation that soon followed was strange; it made Brian breathe easier and crushed him at once. He told Justin that it’d only been a fuck, that they didn’t need to make it mean anything more. He understood Justin’s fear about their friendship, because it was Brian’s fear as well. And so, with nonchalance he didn’t feel, Brian dismissed the past night with a smile, and got ready for school. 

After he was ready, he made his way to the kitchen, and was faintly surprised at seeing Justin had prepared breakfast for him. He started eating, trying hard not to stare at Justin licking ice-cream off a spoon and picturing him licking Brian’s cock. He ate as quickly as possible, and drank his coffee in one go, desperate to leave the apartment. He really, really hoped soccer practice would take his mind off things.

“Well, well, well… our captain finally deems it’s time to return to practice,” Coach Jenkins greeted Brian.

Brian struggled not to punch him. “Doctor’s orders, coach. Couldn’t play for two weeks.” 

“Hmm. So, what are you waiting for? Start running, Kinney. Got a lot of catching up to do.” 

That was basically how the next hour and a half panned out. Coach Jenkins made Brian work harder than anyone else, kept ribbing him about missing two weeks, and refused to acknowledge Brian’s performance in the last game, even after the team cheered and presented him with a cake after practice was over. Brian ate a small piece and gave the rest to his teammates, wincing when he chewed because his nose was just a bit tender. Fucking Jerkins. 

Sadly, his classes didn’t prove to be much of a distraction either. In Mr. Johns’ class, students were presenting their projects, which were complete ad campaigns for different products the teacher had assigned to them. Halfway through the first presentation, Brian was already bored out of his mind. The ideas were old, clichéd, and mediocre at best. Brian’s presentation wasn’t until next class, so he pulled out his copy of Thank You for Smoking by Christopher Buckley and started reading. 

Lindsay caught up with him at lunchtime, and he made his way through a wilted salad while she talked about her latest love woes with Rebecca Tucci. Eventually, she noticed Brian wasn’t actually listening, and said, “Okay. Out with it. What’s wrong?”

“Why would something be wrong?” Brian asked.

“Because by now you should have said something like, “go find another twat to go down on”, or something equally insensitive,” Lindsay pointed out.

“Well, it’s nothing. Maybe your muncher meltdowns are just less fascinating than usual,” Brian smirked.

Lindsay gave him a penetrating look, and shook her head. “No, it’s not that. You want to know what I think?”

“No.”

“It’s Justin.”

Brian looked at her, surprised, but refused to say anything. 

“What happened?” Lindsay tilted her head, and gasped. “Oh, my god. You had sex, didn’t you?”

Brian shrugged. Jesus, did lesbians have mind-reading powers or something?

“Brian! That’s – how…” Lindsay broke off, and frowned. “You told him it meant nothing, didn’t you?” she finally asked, voice disapproving and eyes narrowed.

Brian looked away, pretending to be fascinated by a poster outlining what a good diet consisted of.

“Oh, Brian,” Lindsay sighed. “I know you’re gonna tell me that this is none of my business, and to butt out, but – you love him, Brian. You love him, and he loves you, and it’s stupid to pretend otherwise. Denying it can only hurt you both.”

“Lindsay – it’s none of your business, so butt out,” Brian said, and stood up to leave. 

Later, driving to Ryder Advertising, Brian decided Lindsay was wrong. What would hurt Justin would be to admit things, to even contemplate having something together. Because Brian was no good for a relationship, no good for anything else than a great fuck. It’s the way it was, and the way it would stay.

+

By the time Brian made it home, he was tired and frustrated. His day had sucked, in every way but the good way. After the horrible soccer practice, boring classes and lesbian inquisition, he’d also faced the incompetence of fucking Mr. Anderson, who almost lost them a client; and after Brian swept in, saving the day, making sure the client liked the campaign and signed the contract, goddamned Anderson had gone to Ryder and taken all the glory for himself. Throughout it all, he couldn’t stop thinking about Justin, about last night. So yeah, he was tired and frustrated, but he was also fucking horny. 

Walking inside the apartment, he noticed Justin was working on some homework on his desk. Justin looked up and greeted him, asking about his day, and Brian gave him an edited account. He dropped his bags in the usual place by the door, and walked to the kitchen to get some water, biting back a smile when he saw Justin pouring himself Cheerios. He just never stopped eating. A strong moment of tension ensued when they both grabbed the fridge handle, but Justin reacted and moved away. 

The second time they bumped into each other, Brian couldn’t resist. Not while Justin was looking at him the way he was, with lust, love, with so much fucking desire. Brian captured his lips in a kiss, and before he knew it, he had Justin lying down on the couch, legs on his shoulders, and he was inside him. Brian fucked Justin hard, letting go of the frustrations of the day, losing himself inside Justin, just one more time, before he said the words that needed to be said.

When it was over, Brian brought some paper wipes from the kitchen and cleaned Justin off. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and pulled himself together. It was time to say what needed to be said, to try and salvage their friendship, just as Justin had asked. He faced Justin, and started speaking.

“Justin, this can’t happen again. I – I’m sorry,” Brian started. Justin looked surprised. “We said last night was only a fuck, and I know I shouldn’t have kissed you just now. We shouldn’t have done what we did. So let’s call it an accident, and, um… move on.”

“An accident?” Justin whispered.

“Yeah.” Brian ran a hand through his hair. “We won’t let it happen again. Won’t let it ruin our friendship. Okay?”

“Okay.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After the “accident”, Justin had no idea how to behave.

There was just no way he could act like nothing happened, there was no fucking way he could pretend Brian didn’t fuck him, wasn’t deep inside him, in every single way. Justin understood Brian did exactly what Justin asked, he’d protected their friendship, and that Brian wasn’t aware of how he’d hurt Justin, because he didn’t know what Justin had been about to say that night, that Justin had been ready to take the plunge. But while the logical part of his brain knew this, his heart and his gut and his body wanted Brian, and resented him. So their friendship was fucked, one way or another. There was no going back. 

Justin was in one of the studios in PIFA, finishing an art project. His art was darker than usual, had more of an edge, and Miss McIntire had asked him to write an essay about this particular piece, explaining it. Justin knew his well-intentioned teacher would be taken aback if she read that the piece meant Justin was pining for his asshole roommate who’d fucked him twice last week and then called it a fucking accident, and, plus, he didn’t want to write that, he was done with being so goddamned teenage angst. Maybe he’d say he suffered from periodical bouts of depression, or had a split personality; it was bound to sound more interesting than unrequited love. 

“Hey, Jus. Nice piece.”

Justin was startled, and turned quickly. Ethan. Oh, shit. Justin had avoided Ethan for the better part of a week, going as far as taking the long way to the entrance just to avoid walking by the Music Building, and, what had been truly horrible, buying coffee in the crappy cafeteria. 

“Um, thanks, Ethan. What brings you here?” Justin asked, putting down his palette and brushes.

“You, actually.”

Justin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t answer. He had no idea what to say, so he moved to the sink and started washing the brushes he’d used. 

“Justin,” Ethan sighed. “Listen, I realize you’ve been avoiding me for, like, a week. I don’t know why, and I don’t want to know. All I want is to tell you that I really, really like you. And that I’m not being all insistent ‘cause I want to get into your pants. I want something serious with you. I want a relationship.”

Justin looked at him for a long moment. 

Any other guy would’ve given up by now, unwilling to put up with Justin’s hot and cold treatment, his indecision, his perhaps all too obvious crush on his roommate. But Ethan was still here, putting himself on the line. It made him either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid. Brian would go for the latter option, but Justin chose the former. These were words he’d desperately hoped to hear, for two years, from someone he knew perfectly well would never say them. And Justin finally accepted that. Brian wasn’t going to declare his love, Brian wasn’t going to pursue a relationship with him. Brian was a friend, and last week had been an accident. 

So Justin walked up to Ethan, and kissed him.

+

Brian had been sitting in front of the computer, muttering and occasionally cursing, ever since Justin got home, at five. It was already nine, and Justin was getting ready to go out with Ethan. They were going to the movies and maybe grabbing a bite at the Liberty diner afterwards, and Justin hoped against hope that this date wouldn’t end in something terribly dramatic. He’d had enough drama already. 

“Brian, what are you up to? You haven’t moved in three hours,” Justin inquired, standing behind Brian’s chair.

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked seriously tired. “I have to present an ad campaign tomorrow, and I had a fight with my partner in the project. So I have to do a new campaign by myself.”

“But, wait, wasn’t this the idea you ran by me a few weeks ago? About the flu meds, or whatever?” Justin frowned. “You came up with the entire thing, why should you have to do a new campaign?” 

“Because my other idea sucks. I just realized that this afternoon, but my partner refused to listen, and said he’d go ahead and present the campaign on his own.” Brian shrugged. “If the asshole wants to use it, I don’t care. But he’s not going to ace, because he doesn’t know how to sell my idea.”

Justin nodded. He leaned closer to the monitor and examined the poster and slogan Brian was working on. “You know, I think black and white would be more powerful than color.”

Brian looked up to him, and Justin realized how close their faces were, how Brian’s scent was surrounding him. He quickly stood straight again, and Brian nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks.” He turned back to the computer and started making changes to the poster. 

“No problem,” Justin breathed out. He cleared his throat. “Right, well, don’t stay up too late. And eat some dinner, I left something for you to heat up.”

“Where are you going?” Brian asked, without taking his eyes off the monitor.

“To the movies, with Ethan.”

Brian was silent for a moment. “Have fun,” he finally said, quietly. 

“Thanks,” Justin paused before opening the door, looking at Brian for a second. He sighed. “Later,” he grabbed his jacket from the peg by the door, and left.

+

“I can’t believe you made me watch that movie!” Ethan exclaimed. Justin and he were walking down Liberty Avenue after watching ‘300’ in the movie theatre. 

“Why? It’s awesome,” Justin was still reeling from the sheer hotness of all the Spartan men, not to mention the incredible art direction.

“I’ve never seen anything bloodier! And I’ll bet anything the Battle of Thermopylae wasn’t quite as heroic as that.”

“Who cares? Justin shrugged, grinning. “The men were gorgeous, and the special effects were just beyond amazing. It was precisely like a graphic novel, the colors and photography were perfect.”

“See, this is the problem with dating an artist, they always find irrefutable proof that something has amazing artistic subtleties,” Ethan teased. 

Justin chuckled, and pointed to the Liberty Diner. “Let’s go to the diner, I’m kinda hungry.”

Ethan nodded and followed Justin inside.

“Sunshine!” Debbie greeted him, the moment he walked in. “How are you, sweetheart? Haven’t seen you for a week!”

“Hi, Deb,” Justin smiled, taking Debbie’s crushing hug with time-honed endurance. “I’m okay. I’ve been a bit busy with school, art projects…”

“Hmm. And who’s this?” Debbie raised and eyebrow and pointed to Ethan, who looked a bit scared of Debbie’s overwhelming presence.

“This is Ethan,” Justin introduced him. “Ethan, this is Debbie. Surrogate mom to half the guys in Liberty Avenue.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ethan said, nervously.

Deb kept on looking at him speculatively for a moment, but she broke out into a smile and said, “Well, you’re just gorgeous, honey! You better treat Sunshine here well, you hear me?” she wagged a finger at him.

“Um, I hear you,” Ethan said quickly. 

“Good. Now, sit down, what can I get you?” Debbie asked, pulling out her notepad and pen.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake,” Justin ordered.

Ethan glanced down at the menu for a moment, and then said, “I think I’ll have the same.”

Debbie nodded, and left to place their order.

“Sunshine?” Ethan asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, shut up,” Justin grumbled. 

“Sure, I can totally see where it comes from. You have such a sunny disposition.”

Justin rolled his eyes, but gave Ethan a small smile.

+

Justin opened the door to his apartment and went inside. He hadn’t invited Ethan up because he didn’t want to move too quickly, he didn’t feel ready to have sex with him yet. As he walked to his room, he heard faint noises coming from Brian’s room, and thoughtlessly went to investigate. 

The door wasn’t completely closed, and when Justin realized the noises where actually moans and grunts, he couldn’t help but peeking in. Brian was fucking a burly guy on his bed, fucking him really hard, if the movement of the bed was any indication. Justin sighed, and gently closed the door completely. Why the hell did he do this to himself? He knew better than to investigate any noises coming from Brian’s room, because they usually always meant the same thing: Brian was having sex. At least this time he wasn’t fucking in the living room.

With a final glance at Brian’s door, Justin walked away to his own room, to try and sleep without being tortured by longing. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could live with Brian, not if it meant feeling like this.

+

Emmet was determined to make Ted Schmidt have fun. 

“Hi, Teddy! Where are you? Do you want to come to lunch with us? We’re heading to the Liberty Diner in a few,” Emmett said.

_“I’m hanging out with an old friend of mine, we’re in my apartment.”_

“Oooh! Is he cute?”

_“ **She** is a lesbian.”_

“Awww. Shame. Oh, wait!” Emmett exclaimed. “Why don’t you bring her? Lindsay’s all depressed ‘cause she broke up with Rebecca Tucci, again. Maybe she’ll hit it off with your friend.”

_“I’m not too sure Mel would appreciate being set up…”_

“Don’t tell her! Just bring her to the diner. Michael, Lindsay and I will be there.”

_“Michael’s gonna be there?”_

“Yeah,” Emmett sighed. Ted really needed to get past his crush. Or do something about it. 

“Um, okay, then. We’ll see you at the diner in about twenty minutes.”

“Ta!” Emmett closed his phone. He turned to see Lindsay glaring at him, and Michael holding back laughter. “What?”

“Why did you tell your friend I was depressed? I’m not depressed! And I don’t need to be set up,” Lindsay complained. 

Emmett looked at Lindsay, taking in the baggy grey sweatshirt, the pint of chocolate ice-cream in her hand, the red eyes. “Honey, you _are_ depressed. But that’s okay; we all need time to mourn when we lose things we love. You should’ve seen how heartbroken I was when my favorite pair of lima green jeans shrank.” 

Michael snorted, and went back to reading the latest issue of Spiderman. 

“Still, being in mourning is no excuse to look like a fashion emergency,” Emmett continued, and held a hand out to Lindsay. “Come on, sweetie, let’s freshen you up a bit.”

Emmett, Michael and Lindsay walked into the Liberty Diner twenty minutes later, and Lindsay looked considerably better. Her hair was brushed and loose, she’d taken off the horrible sweatshirt, and she’d put on eye-liner and lip-gloss. Emmett was a genius. He looked around for Ted, and saw he was sitting at the back. 

“Oh, look, there’s Teddy!” 

They made their way to Ted’s booth, and Ted stood up to let them sit and introduce his companion. “Guys, this is my friend, Melanie. Mel, I’d like you to meet Emmett, Michael, and Lindsay.”

Melanie smiled, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you all.” 

Emmett didn’t miss how her eyes immediately fixed on Lindsay, or how Lindsay blushed. Still, he figured it would take them a while to get things going… they were lesbians, after all. 

“So, how do you two know each other?” Emmett asked Ted and Melanie.

“Oh, we used to go to high school together,” Ted explained.

“And what do you do, Mel?” Lindsay asked.

“I’m studying Law at Pitt-U,” Melanie replied, smiling. “What about you?”

“I’m an Art History major over at Carnegie Mellon.”

“That’s great,” Melanie said. “I’m not very much into art, myself, but maybe I haven’t had the right teacher.”

Emmett kept himself from gagging. Eugh, lesbians flirting. He looked around the diner to distract himself, and noticed the cute doctor from the other day was back… and staring at Michael. 

“Michael,” he nudged, whispering. Michael looked at him questioningly. “Don’t look now, but Dr. Cutie is staring at you.”

“Who the hell is ‘Dr. Cutie’?” 

Emmett rolled his eyes. “The hot guy I pointed out the other day! You know, the one your mom said was a doctor, and she wouldn’t mind if-”

“I remember now!” Michael interrupted. “No need to recall what my mom said.”

Ted was looking at them curiously, and Emmett felt kind of bad, so he engaged him in conversation.

“So, Teddy, do you want to go to Babylon again? We could go this Friday. I’ll lend you a fabulous outfit,” Emmett offered.

“I would like to go to Babylon again – but this time, I think I’ll just wear something of mine,” Ted replied with a small smile. 

“Okay. Though I have to say, I loved that t-shirt you wore the other night, it was just so cute,” Emmett said.

“You know, I don’t think it fit me all that well. Maybe you’d look better in it. Would you like it?” 

“Really? Oh, thank you, Teddy, that’s so nice of you!” Emmett gave Ted an awkward hug. 

Eventually, a waiter came by to take their order, and they had lunch. Michael pointed out that the service sucked when his mother wasn’t working, and Ted agreed, saying the portions seemed to shrink, as well. Melanie and Lindsay talked constantly throughout, but Emmett didn’t exactly know about what – he wasn’t too interested in lesbian flirting. They all stood up to leave after paying, and when they were about to walk out, Dr. Cutie approached Michael.

“Excuse me?”

Michael turned, unsure if the guy was talking to him. “Yeah?”

“Well, uh, last time I was here I… I sort of noticed you looking at me.”

Michael blushed furiously. “Yeah, I’m so sorry about that, I-”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” the guy interrupted. “I was actually wondering if maybe you’d like to go out with me someday.”

“Go out with you?” Michael squeaked out.

The guy laughed nervously. “Yes. I mean, if you’re with someone or. I just thought -”

“Of course he’ll go out with you!” Emmett exclaimed. Michael and the guy turned to him. “Right, Michael?”

Michael seemed to shake himself out of his momentary shock. “Um, yeah, I’d love to go out with you. What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m David Cameron,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Michael Novotny,” Michael replied, shaking it. 

“So, could you give me your number? I’ll call you to set something up, later this week,” David said.

“Sure,” Michael agreed, and started dictating his phone number to David.

Emmett smiled and looked away, but his smile died when he saw Ted’s face. Poor baby. Unrequited love sucked.

+

Brian was absolutely exhausted. After finishing off with his trick, he’d worked through the night, and then dragged himself to soccer practice, where Coach Jenkins had indulged in making his life miserable once again. Functioning on obscene amounts of caffeine alone, Brian showered and made his way to class, carrying his new campaign with him. 

Mr. Johns had assigned a fake brand of flu meds to Brian and his partner, Alan, saying that Brian had made such an interesting contribution in class when they reviewed the flawed medication campaign, he was extremely intrigued in seeing the ideas Brian could come up with. Initially, Brian and Alan had decided to develop Brian’s ‘sexy meds’ idea, and they’d made a poster and prepared demographic and consumer studies for it. However, after Brian had seen how unoriginal and boring most of his classmates’ ideas were, and realizing that quite a few had used his “sex sells everything” maxim, he wracked his brain for a new idea. It came to him while reading ‘Thank You for Smoking’, and he immediately went to Alan to tell him about the change of plans.

“You’re kidding me, right? Kinney, it’s madness to change the campaign now! We’re presenting tomorrow,” Alan said.

“Listen, do you want to get an A? Present the campaign we have now. Do you want to sell this campaign to a client? Then work with me, and we can get the new idea done by tomorrow,” Brian tried to convince him.

“Fuck that. If you want to do your new idea, then go ahead, but I’m not busting my ass over this damn project again. And I’m presenting the campaign we have tomorrow, alone if need be.”

So, Brian was left alone to work on a campaign with his new idea, and he did it all by himself, with a tiny bit of help in the form of Justin’s suggestion. 

When he got to the classroom, he explained the situation between his partner and himself to Mr. Johns. Alan started his presentation, and people seemed impressed. A few glanced back at Brian, wondering why he wasn’t presenting as well. When Alan finished, Brian stood up and started setting up.

“When I first started working on this project, I thought I’d sell these meds with what I’m best at: sex,” Brian began. Most of his classmates chuckled, as did Mr. Johns. “However, yesterday I realized that even while my idea would be attractive to most people, it wouldn’t be appealing to the main core of my consumers. People with the flu don’t really think about having sex, and even if they do, they feel too sick to actually have it. So advertising these meds using sex would’ve been like rubbing their faces in it…” Brian began to uncover the first of his posters. “Which is why I decided to use a fairly ludicrous idea in advertising. Honesty.” 

The first of his posters showed a young girl who was obviously ill, her nose looked raw and her lips chapped. The photograph was in black and white, and underneath, in blue, were the words: “Using ‘Temprex’ won’t make your flu disappear in a second.” Brian uncovered the second photograph, showing the same girl, looking only slightly happier, but healthier. “But when you use ‘Temprex’, you can be sure you’ll get better, because it treats the disease instead of covering up your symptoms”. 

Brian then went on to outline other aspects of his campaign, such as the demographics it would be aimed at, and he described television spots, showing story-boards for them. When he was finished, the classroom was silent. Then, a student started clapping, and in quick succession, the rest of the students started clapping as well. 

Mr. Johns approached Brian, smiling. “Well, Mr. Kinney, I didn’t think you could pull this off. It could use some work, but it’s certainly one of the most original ideas I’ve seen. Congratulations.”

+

Brian headed to Woody’s straight after school, intent on celebrating. He fought an immediate impulse to call Justin; he was probably on a date with the fiddler, and it was for the best that way. Brian celebrated alone, drinking a few beers and shots of whiskey, and getting an above average blow job in the restroom. 

Tiredness soon caught up with him, so he went home. He was surprised to find the apartment empty when he arrived, and he walked into the kitchen, wondering where Justin could be. He found a yellow sticky note stuck to a green apple, which read, _“Hey, Brian! Daphne called with some sort of crisis, she broke up with her boyfriend or something. I’m going over to her place, and I might stay there tonight. I know you hate eating too much after seven, but at least eat this apple, ok? Later, J.”_

Brian crushed the note in his hand, closing his eyes. He knew Daphne hadn’t broken up with her boyfriend, because Daphne didn’t have a boyfriend. Justin seemed to have forgotten Brian talked to Daphne constantly, and that Daphne texted Brian quite a bit, usually to bug the hell out of him. 

Brian headed to his room, apple in hand, and lay down on his bed. He methodically peeled the apple, fighting back the feelings that were running through him. There was no point in dwelling on that night, or on the day after. On how right Justin had felt. What was done was done. He’d succeeded, after all, there was no point in feeling regret. He’d pushed Justin away, pushed him away so he could be happy. If that meant Justin would no longer be around as much, then Brian would have to learn to live with that.

The phone rang, startling Brian out of his reverie. He put down his apple and picked up. “Yeah?”

_“Brian?”_

“Yes.”

_“Brian, this is your mother. Your father’s in the hospital.”_

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Brian walked into Allegheny General Hospital quickly, directing his steps to the Emergency Room waiting lounge. He looked around for his mom, and when he couldn’t find her, he headed to the hospital’s chapel. He saw her the moment he walked inside; she was kneeling, her head bent in prayer.

“Mom,” he called quietly. 

Joan didn’t acknowledge him. She never did, she’d always preferred to lose herself in booze and masses and bullshit prayers and inside her fucking Bible, anything to keep herself away from the real world, the world where her husband was a cheating asshole who liked to show his affection with his fists. Fuck, Brian really didn’t want to be here. 

Joan finished her prayer and crossed herself, and she finally stood up and walked to where Brian was. “Well, let’s go see your father.”

“Mom, what’s wrong? Why is he here?” Brian asked, trying hard to keep his annoyance at bay. 

His mother was so calm, so damn calm; it was hard to believe she’d just called Brian to come to the hospital in the middle of the night because her husband was ill.

“I’ll let him tell you. It’s not my place,” Joan replied curtly. 

Of course it wasn’t, she was only Brian’s goddamned mother. They walked in silence, Brian struggling with the old instinct to just leave, to flee the vicinity of the people who called themselves his parents. Joan led him to one of the examination rooms and stood just outside of the closed curtain. 

“He’s in there. He might be sleeping, I don’t know. I’m going back to the chapel,” with that, she turned and left. 

It was her usual move, didn’t really surprise Brian. But the stab of pain he felt, and quickly suppressed, did hurt – he’d thought he was finally over it.

Brian opened the curtain slowly, and peered inside. His father appeared to be sleeping, and he was surrounded by the machines Brian himself had been subject to, not too long ago. He walked inside cautiously, hoping he could get this over quickly, and leave. 

Jack stirred, and slowly opened his eyes. “Hey, Sonny Boy,” he said, voice gravelly. The nickname never failed to make Brian queasy. “Come to see your old man?”

Brian nodded. “My mother called me, said you were here. What’s wrong, dad?”

“The Warden didn’t tell you, then, did she? Nah, she loves leaving the dirty work to me. Makes her feel more pure than usual,” Jack’s dry, humorless chuckle turned into a cough, and Brian handed him the plastic cup of water on the bedside table. After taking a drink, Jack continued, “Well, better say this straight up. I’m dying, Sonny Boy. Lung cancer.”

Dying. Fuck. 

Brian swallowed, and asked, “There’s nothing they can do?” 

“Nope. Caught it too late,” Jack shrugged, for all the world like he didn’t give a damn his days were counted. “I ended up here ‘cause I couldn’t breathe properly, and your mother panicked and called an ambulance. The doctors say I probably have a few weeks left, maybe less.” 

Brian was quiet for a second. What the hell could you even say to that? Finally, he thought to ask, “Does Claire know?” 

Jack grimaced. “Yeah, your mother made me tell her. She wouldn’t stop crying, the little bitch. As if she cared if I died. Women are only good for one thing, Sonny Boy, remember that. Don’t end up like me, you hear me? We Kinney men, we’re not meant to be family men.”

Brian’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Yeah, Kinney men weren’t meant to be family men, they weren’t meant to love, to fucking care. He knew that all too well. 

Jack started coughing again, heavily, and he started gasping for air. The machines began to beep, and a nurse and doctor ran inside, pushed Brian aside. They put a mask on Jack, the doctor started dictating fast orders to the nurse. 

Brian couldn’t keep watching, he couldn’t stick around. Jack was dying, and he didn’t give a damn, and Brian wasn’t sure if he was sad or relieved over the news. How fucked up was that? He left, kept walking until he was in the parking lot. He stared up at the dark sky, stars barely visible, and took a deep breath. His father was dying. His father. Jack fucking Kinney. Brian angrily blinked the wetness out of his eyes, and headed to his car. 

He drove around aimlessly, until, on impulse, he parked in front of the Liberty Diner. He turned off his Jeep, and got out, turning up the collar of his jacket. The diner was nearly empty, with the exception of two hustlers who were counting their earnings for the night in the corner booth. 

“Brian?” Ah, fuck. He didn’t want to run into anyone, not right now. With a sigh, Brian turned to face Debbie. “What are you doing here at this hour? Don’t tell me you just left Babylon! Brian, honey, you can’t-”

“I was at the hospital, Deb,” Brian interrupted her rant, shocked at his own honesty.

He had no idea why he’d her told the truth, except that Debbie was one of the few people who could get it out of him without trying. Too hard, anyway.

“What?” Debbie lay a hand against Brian’s forehead, as if to test his temperature. “Are you sick, Brian? What’s wrong?”

Brian, irritated, batted her hand away, and sat down by the counter. “It’s Jack,” he muttered. “He’s dying.”

“Oh, honey,” Debbie whispered. She went behind the counter, and placed two cups on top of it, one for Brian and one for herself. She poured freshly brewed coffee, and, after looking around for a second, took out a little flask from underneath the counter. Brian raised an eyebrow, and Debbie shrugged. “I figure you could use a little kick in you coffee. And so could I.” She poured a small amount of whiskey in both cups. “So. When did you find out?”

“Just now. My mother called me, told me to go to the hospital. And dear old Jack told me the news himself: he has lung cancer, and no more than a few weeks to live,” Brian relayed the news unemotionally. 

There was no point in getting emotional. 

Debbie drank a sip of coffee. She gazed at Brian for a moment, and asked, “Do they know?”

Brian huffed, “Fuck, no.” 

What the fuck was Debbie thinking? That at some point between finally getting out of that hellhole and now, Brian had actually gone back to have a heart to heart with his parents, tell them he was gay? Not enough weed in the world to get him that high.

“Don’t you think it’s time?” Debbie prodded. “They deserve-”

“They don’t deserve shit,” Brian said vehemently, interrupting. “You of all people know that.”

Debbie nodded sadly. They were both silent for a while, painful memories hanging in the air between them. Memories of a lanky fourteen year old, so angry and so fucking broken, arriving to Deb’s house in the middle of the night, bruised and bleeding. No questions asked, nothing to do but heal his cuts and give him a place to crash.

Eventually, Debbie said, “Well, honey – then don’t tell them for them, tell them for yourself. At least tell your father, before it’s too late.”

“What, you think ‘cause he’s dying he won’t mind his only son is a fag? That he’ll hug me and we’ll have a touching father and son reunion?” Brian asked, mockingly. “Life isn’t a Hallmark movie, Deb. If he has any strength left, I assure you he’ll use it to punch me out.”

There was no doubt in his mind about that. Jack Kinney would rather see him dead than gay.

“Then at least you’ll know. At least you won’t be left wondering. Think about it, sweetie. Just think about it,” Debbie patted his cheek, and left to take the order of a recently arrived gang of hustlers. 

Brian sighed, and took a big drink of coffee.

+

Brian spent the next day brooding, unable to focus on anything at all. 

His game was off in soccer practice, which led to a fifteen minute tongue lashing by Coach Jenkins; he slept through Consumer Psychology, and he couldn’t even muster the energy to criticize a painfully bad campaign one of his classmates presented, which involved cute puppies and a corny blond family. He was dreading lunch with Lindsay, since she was bound to realize something was wrong and wear him down with WASP-y techniques until he told her what was bothering him. 

However, when he got to their usual lunch table, Lindsay was nowhere to be found. He waited impatiently for ten minutes before taking out his cell phone and calling her.

_“Hello?”_

“Linds, where the fuck are you?” he spit out.

_“Oh, gosh! Oh, Brian, I’m so sorry! I forgot to tell you, I’m having lunch with Mel.”_

“Mel?” Who in the hell was Lindsay talking about?

_“You know, Ted’s friend. I thought I’d called you to let you know, I’m so sorry.”_

“It’s fine. How-”

_“Oh, the food’s here! Have to go, Bri, bye!”_

Brian listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before hanging up. He didn’t really feel hungry anymore, so he stood up and took a walk around campus. 

Thankfully, Brian had an easy afternoon at Ryder. They were preparing for a new campaign, and Brian had already done all his research a few days before, so he didn’t need to stress. He sat in on a few meetings, revised some copy, and left as soon as he could. He was rather hungry, not having eaten lunch, and he hoped Justin had prepared something good for dinner.

However, the apartment was empty when Brian got home, and there was no sign of food having been prepared. Brian took off his coat and hung it on the peg by the door, and he noticed a yellow note stuck on the wall: _Hey, having dinner at Ethan’s. Later, J._

Well, at least Brian wouldn’t have to deal with Justin’s mothering or incisive questions.

He changed into his oldest jeans and a worn, black t-shirt, and, before he had time to rethink his decision, he left again, intent on going to the hospital.

When he arrived to the Emergency Room, he found out Jack had been transferred to a room upstairs, since he’d stabilized somewhat the night before. Brian headed to the floor the nurse indicated, and when he was in front of Jack’s room, he took a deep breath before opening the door. What the fuck was he doing? This was a really, really bad idea. Thankfully, neither his mother nor Claire were inside, he didn’t want an audience.

Brian approached Jack’s bedside. His father was sleeping, and Brian took a moment to examine the face, lined with age and pain. He wished, he so desperately wished, he could hate Jack. Hate him completely, or better yet, not give a damn about him. He’d never given Brian anything but hateful words and painful blows, and Brian had long given up on Jack ever being a real father to him. Yet, there was an unacknowledged and unwelcome part of him that wanted Jack to be proud of him, for once. A part of him that craved a friendly hand on his shoulder, a pat on the back. 

If he came clean, that dream would vanish for good. Brian smiled, painfully. Better to tell him, so he’d finally be rid of his stupid fucking dream.

“Hey, pop,” he greeted quietly, touching Jack’s shoulder briefly to wake him up. 

Jack opened his eyes sluggishly. “What are you doin’ here, Sonny Boy?”

“Uh, I came to talk to you,” Brian replied.

“’Bout what?” Jack grimaced.

“Well, actually, I came to tell you something.” Brian paused. This was it. He was going to lay himself bare, and, what was worse, he knew it was going to blow up in his face. Fucking Debbie. He steeled himself, and said, “I’m gay, pop.”

Jack stared at him for a moment, a frown clouding his face. “You’re a fuckin’ fairy?!” he exclaimed, every word dripping with disgust. “It should be you that’s dying, not me.”

Brian rolled his lips inside his mouth, schooled his features to show no reaction. He nodded, and, without saying a word, he left. He knew it, he fucking knew it. And, yet, knowing didn’t take away the hurt.

+

Incessant pounding woke Emmett from a deep sleep. Confused, he gazed blearily around his room, searching for the source of the noise, and it took him a few seconds to realize someone was knocking on the apartment’s door. If almost demolishing it with blows could be called knocking.

“Hold your horses, I’m coming,” Emmett called out. He peered through the peep-hole and was surprised to see Brian, looking very much worse for the wear.

Emmett took off the chain and opened the door. “Brian? What are you doing here?”

Brian clutched the doorsill, and Emmett noticed the nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his other hand. “Need to see Mikey,” Brian slurred, eyes vaguely focused on the floor. 

Emmett was surprised he could form a sentence, he looked plastered.

“Oh… Michael’s not here,” Emmett bit his lip. “He went on a date with a doctor, and he’s not back yet.”

“Mikey… Mikey’s not here?” The tone of Brian’s voice was, well, heartbreaking. Totally heartbreaking.

Emmett put a careful hand on his shoulder. “No, Brian, I’m sorry.” And how he meant it. What could be wrong? “But why don’t you come in? You can sleep on the couch, or in Michael’s bed. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Brian looked up, and shook his head. “No. Better go home.” 

With an agility that belied his drunkenness, he shook off Emmett’s hand and left before Emmett could say another word. The whole episode made Emmett very uneasy. What he’d seen in Brian’s eyes before he left had shaken him to the core. A deep, deep pain that alcohol couldn’t erase.

+

The following morning, Emmett headed to the Liberty Diner to have breakfast, hoping to meet Michael or Brian, and ideally, both of them. However, his heart sank when he saw Brian wasn’t sitting with Michael, David and Ted. 

“Morning, Em,” Ted greeted him. 

Emmett was surprised at his cheeriness, considering he was sitting with his crush and his crushes’ beau, but he figured Teddy realized Michael was happy, and didn’t want to get in the way of that. Teddy was a sweetheart like that.

“Hey, Teddy. Michael, David,” Emmett smiled, and sat down with them. 

“Hey, Em,” Michael replied. “You look a bit tired, didn’t you sleep well last night?”

Emmett decided against telling them of his midnight visitor. He guessed Brian wouldn’t appreciate them knowing about it. “Uh, yeah. I think I had too many milk and Oreos before bed, you know?”

“You shouldn’t eat complex carbohydrates after seven, especially not before going to sleep,” David admonished.

“Well, a chiropractor and a dietician!” Ted exclaimed. “You really won the lottery with this one, Michael.”

Emmett fought back a grin. Neither Michael nor David seemed to figure out whether Ted meant what he said as an insult or a compliment, so David gave him a small smile and Michael dug into his scrambled eggs. 

“Hey, Michael? Have you seen Brian?” Emmett asked, as nonchalantly as he could. No point in making waves just yet.

“Brian? No, why?” Michael inquired through a mouthful of eggs. 

“Oh, just wondering if he was joining us for breakfast… looking at him is always a great way to start the day,” Emmett improvised. Not that he was lying, really. 

Ted snorted. “Don’t tell me you have a crush on Brian Kinney?” 

Emmett rolled his eyes. “Just because I can admire his total gorgeousness doesn’t mean I have a crush on him, Teddy. Plus, he’s a friend, and you don’t fuck your friends. I’m not a _total_ slut.”

Michael looked thoughtful, and, oblivious to Ted’s and Emmett’s interlude, he said, “I haven’t talked to him in a few days, actually. He was pretty busy with school, and he was starting soccer practice again. I’ll give him a call later.”

“You’ll be at work later, baby. And then, we’re having dinner with a few friends of mine, remember? You might not have time to call him,” David said.

Emmett raised his eyebrows. Since when did one date lead to full on schedule planning? Ah, well, if Michael was happy, he guessed it was alright. Plus, the doctor was a real hottie… if you liked older men. 

+

Emmett kept an eye out for Brian during the next few days, but the young Stud of Liberty Avenue had vanished from even the backroom of Babylon. He had no idea why he was so concerned, but Emmett just knew Brian needed someone, and soon. Obviously he didn’t fit the bill, Brian wasn’t going to confide in him, so if he didn’t find Brian soon, he’d share his concerns with Justin. 

After a night’s search in Babylon, Boy Toy, Pistol and even the Meathook garnered no results, Emmett decided he’d talk to Justin in the morning. Luckily, Justin had the breakfast shift at the diner the following day.

“Morning, Em, what can I get you?” Justin greeted him, pad and pen ready.

“Hi, sweetie! Hmm, I’ll have the strawberry waffles, and some coffee.” Justin wrote his order down, and before he left, Emmett asked, “Um, hey, have you seen Brian lately?”

Justin frowned. “We _are_ roommates, Emmett,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Emmett laughed nervously. “I know, I know! It’s just – I’m a bit worried about him.”

 

“Why?”

“Well, I saw him a few days ago, and he didn’t look too well. I’ve been looking for him ever since, to check up on him, but he hasn’t been to the diner or to Babylon in days.”

“Really?” Justin looked concerned.

Emmett nodded. “Maybe I’m just being silly, but-”

“No, thanks for telling me,” Justin interrupted, now looking very worried. Uh, let me get your food,” Justin said, distractedly, and left to place the order. 

Emmett stared after him, hoping that Justin would have some luck in finding out what was wrong with Brian.

+

Emmett’s question nagged Justin for the rest of his shift. 

“Have you seen Brian lately?” 

Honestly, Justin hadn’t, not for a while. He avoided the apartment when he knew Brian would be there, and he’d slept at Daphne’s or Ethan’s throughout the week. His contact with his roommate was reduced to scribbling short notes on sticky yellow paper. What did Emmett mean, when he said Brian didn’t look alright? Could he be sick again, working himself too hard? Maybe he’d gotten another job, and he was working nights once more. He probably wasn’t eating properly; he never took care of himself when Justin wasn’t around. 

When he got to PIFA, he walked slowly to his first class, lost in thought. A presence by his side startled him.

“Hey, Jus! Why so broody?” Ethan inquired.

“Oh, hi, Ethan,” Justin gave him a small smile. Ethan had the weirdest habit of always showing up wherever Justin walked. “No reason, just thinking.”

Ethan looked at him oddly. “Well, you better think more quickly, ‘cause you’re going to be late for your class.”

Justin looked down at his watch. “Shit! You’re right. Better run, see you later!” he said, and dashed off. 

Ethan yelled something, but Justin couldn’t hear him clearly, and he didn’t stop running. He barely made it to the classroom in time, and his teacher glared at him as he took a seat in the back. 

Unable to concentrate on the day’s lecture, Justin formed a plan. He knew that if there really was something wrong, Brian wouldn’t tell him, especially after how estranged they were right now. Justin would simply wait until Brian arrived to the apartment, and follow him to wherever he went. Justin was confident he could be a very good stalker.

After classes finished, Justin took the bus home. He tried to read a book he’d been assigned for his Modern Art class, but he couldn’t focus, so he gave up and stared out the window instead. A weak drizzle began to fall, and Justin sighed. Rain would really make his stalking uncomfortable. When he arrived to the apartment, he opened the door as quietly as he could, in case Brian was already home. He wasn’t, so Justin headed to his room, left his door slightly ajar, and settled behind it. He opened one of his sketchbooks and started to draw while he waited for Brian to come home. 

About an hour later, he heard the front door opening, and he put his pencil down. He could imagine what Brian was doing from the sounds he was hearing: putting down his bags, getting a bottle of water, changing in his room… The phone rang, and it startled Justin so badly he almost yelled, but he managed to control himself. He heard Brian pick it up.

“Yeah?... And why the fuck do I need to go? … Fine. I said, fine, I’ll be there.”

Brian sounded really pissed off. Within a few minutes, Justin heard the front door slam, and he got up from the floor, determined to follow Brian. Quickly putting on a jacket, he left the apartment. He ran down the stairs, but slowed down before opening building’s door. He waited until he saw Brian’s Jeep drive past, and then, he flagged down a taxi.

“Follow that black Jeep, please,” he told the cabbie. 

Justin felt like he was in a movie, following a suspect, or something. He couldn’t relax back into the seat, anxiously staring at the black Jeep, and groaning whenever it was lost from view. Finally, they saw the Jeep enter Allegheny General Hospital’s parking lot, and, confused, Justin stepped out of the cab. What the fuck was Brian doing in the hospital?

Justin headed to the entrance, and hid behind a pillar near the elevators. From his vantage point, he could see anybody entering the hospital. After a few minutes, he saw Brian walking inside quickly, looking angry. Justin hadn’t actually seen Brian for enough time that his physical presence took his breath away. Fuck. He was so fucking beautiful. 

Ridding himself of useless thoughts, Justin focused on the task at hand. He saw Brian enter one of the elevators near him, and he cursed. How would he know what floor Brian got off on? He looked at the numbers above the elevator’s doors, and noticed it stopped in the second floor. Justin went onto the next elevator available and pressed two. 

The moment he took a step inside the second floor, he realized he was wrong. It was full of women, pregnant women, and women looking like they’d just given birth. Unless Brian had knocked up someone, or by some freakish chance of nature gotten pregnant himself, Justin doubted he was here.

With a sigh, he went back into the elevator and pressed three. When he walked out, Justin looked around for any clues. He suddenly heard a voice he recognized quite well.

“Just let him sign the fucking DNR, mother! If he wants to die, then let him die, for fuck’s sake!”

“Watch your mouth, Brain! Don’t talk to me like that.”

Justin walked to where he heard the voices coming from, and after turning a corner, he saw Brian and a woman he assumed was Brian’s mother arguing. Justin frowned, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

“Listen, if he doesn’t sign it, then when he turns for the worse, they’ll keep him alive with tubes, machines, and they’ll pump him full of meds. He won’t breathe by himself, eat by himself. Is that what you want?” Brian asked. 

Justin could tell he was losing patience, his hands were fisted.

“No. No, you’re right,” Brian’s mother eventually replied.

“Good. Then have him sign the order.” Brian started to walk away, looking down.

“Brian? Don’t you want to see him?” his mother called after him.

“What for?” Brian stopped, but didn’t turn to face her.

“He’s your father, Brian.”

“Not for long,” Brian said, voice bitter, and he kept on walking. He looked up, and Justin knew he’d been spotted. Brian froze in his tracks, eyes wide. Then, Justin saw his surprise quickly transform into fury. “What the fuck are you doing here, Justin?

“Brian, I was worried, ‘cause Emmett – and, uh, I followed,” Justin tried to explain. He paused, pulling himself together, and after taking a deep breath, asked, “Brian, are you okay? What – what happened to your dad?” 

“It’s none of your fucking business,” Brian snarled, and moved past Justin to the elevators, stepping inside of one. Justin tried to follow him, but Brian pushed him back forcefully. “Fuck off, Justin!”

Taken aback, Justin leaned against the wall behind him. Brian had never been violent toward him, not once. The fact that he’d pushed Justin meant he was in a bad place. A very bad place. Justin needed a new plan. With new resolve, he pressed the elevator’s call button.

+

After a stop at the grocery store, Justin was once again back in the apartment, waiting. He’d resolved to stay up all night, if necessary, but he had to confront Brian. He sat down on the couch in the living room, started watching The Powerpuff Girls. 

Justin was startled awake by the sound of the door opening, and he realized he must’ve dozed off. An infomercial was playing on the TV, the cartoons over long ago. Justin stood up, and he came face to face with Brian.

“Why the hell are you up at this hour, Justin?” he asked, sounding as pissed off as he had in the hospital. “You have the breakfast shift tomorrow.”

“I was waiting for you,” Justin replied, quietly.

“What the fuck for?” Brian headed to the kitchen, and took out a bottle of Beam from one of the cabinets. He poured himself a shot, and drank it in one swallow.

Justin followed Brian into the kitchen, and answered, “Because I’m worried about you, Brian. Because you’re my roommate, and my friend, and I can see you’re in pain.” 

“I’m not in pain. Why would I be?” Brian raised an eyebrow. 

Justin had always been able to read Brian, but the insouciance he was acting with now was throwing him off. He hated it when Brian closed himself off like this, when he acted like an uncaring asshole. Justin knew, he knew, Brian cared, a lot more than he ever let on.

“Because your father’s dying,” Justin said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Oh, that. Well, if you knew anything about Jack Kinney, you’d know dying is about the best thing he could do,” Brian gave him a grin colder than steel.

Justin lost his patience. “Listen to me, you asshole! You can act like you don’t give a damn, you can drink yourself into a stupor and give me your damn superior smile, but I know you’re hurting, and I’ll be fucked before I let you shut me out,” Justin advanced on Brian, who was no longer smiling, and actually looked wary of Justin. “You are going to put that damn bottle down, and you’re going to go lie down. I’m going to make some hot chocolate, and you will drink it, no fucking complaints. And the next time something like this happens? If you don’t tell me, I swear to fucking god I’ll kill you. Now, go to your fucking room,” Justin pointed to Brian’s room.

Brian held Justin’s unwavering glare for a moment, and then, he nodded, and walked to his room. When the hot chocolate was done, Justin followed him, carrying two mugs. 

He paused on the doorway outside Brian’s room, letting out a breath he’d been holding practically all day long. He was so glad his plan worked, that he was getting through to Brian. He’d missed him, and he couldn’t believe he’d almost let bullshit get in the way of their friendship, in the way of the love he had for Brian.

Brian was lying down on his side, clutching a pillow. Justin walked to the bed, placed the mugs on the bedside table, and lay down next to him. Justin hugged him, not saying anything, while silent tremors shook Brian’s form. Justin didn’t know how much time passed, how long they lay there, Brian’s back to Justin’s chest, Justin’s arms around Brian. 

Eventually, Brian turned around. Enough light from the streetlight illuminated the room that Justin could see the tear tracks, the red eyes. Wanting to erase Brian’s pain in any way he could, Justin gently cupped Brian’s face, rubbed the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. He leaned closer, kissing Brian’s eyelids, his cheeks. He paused for a second, met Brian’s bleak whiskey eyes, and captured his lips.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Michael fidgeted uncomfortably. He was having dinner at David’s house, and he had no idea of what to make of David’s friends.

They were all years older than him, they all had good and stable jobs, they had serious relationships… and Michael was a twenty two year old college drop out, working in a cheap convenience store. Whenever he made this mental comparison between David and himself, between David’s world and himself, he felt at once uncomfortable and oddly grateful that David had actually noticed him. 

“So, have you been to Italy, Michael?” Laura, one of David’s friends asked.

“Um, no. I haven’t done much traveling,” Michael replied, quietly. 

He knew Laura was simply trying to draw him into the conversation, but questions like hers, along with, “Have you invested in the latest…” or “Don’t you think the price of car insurances are going through the roof?” isolated Michael to a ridiculous degree. He couldn’t wait for dinner to be over, so he could go to his apartment and talk to Emmett and Ted, if he was around, about Cher’s latest surgery, or about their hottest fucks. It wasn’t that Michael wanted superficial and silly conversation, but he was tired of feeling like he didn’t belong. 

“Oh, you’ll never believe who I saw the other day!” someone exclaimed.

Michael perked up, thinking some juicy gossip might liven up the evening.

“Didi Anderson! You know, that old friend of Bo-Bo’s. She’s looking great, reminded me of Sarah Johnson, actually…”

Michael tuned out. He hated when people dropped random names and expected everyone to know who they were talking about. He glanced at David, who looked riveted with the news of the sighting of Didi Anderson. Then, David looked back at him for a second and gave him a small smile. Michael returned it, but the feeling of dissatisfaction inside him didn’t fade. Were all mid-thirty year olds this damn boring? Somehow, he couldn’t picture Brian, Emmett, Ted, Justin and himself talking about car insurances. Maybe about the hot car insurance salesman…

When dinner was over and the guests left, David embraced Michael from behind. 

“You looked a bit bored tonight,” he remarked softly.

“I wasn’t,” Michael denied. “I guess… I just don’t have too much in common with your friends. They’re all worldly and successful. And I’m, well, I’m not.” 

David squeezed him. “Oh, Michael. You’re adorable. And, if you let me, I can show you so much, I can take you to so many places.” He turned Michael around in his arms, and kissed him. “I wish you’d move in with me,” David said, after they parted. 

Michael didn’t reply. David had expressed the wish twice already, but Michael had yet to answer. Honestly, he felt unprepared, and taken aback. He understood David wanted a serious, settled relationship, because he’d already sown his wild oats after coming out and ending his marriage with his wife, a few years ago. But Michael was twenty-two! He liked going to Woody’s, and Babylon, and hanging out with his friends, getting irresponsibly drunk and high on whatever Brian had scored. With a frown, Michael realized he’d done none of those things in a while; he hadn’t talked to Brian in almost a week. 

“Thinking about Brian?” David asked sharply.

“Oh, I was just thinking I haven’t talked to him in a while, and I’m a bit worried, after what Emmett told us the other day,” Michael answered.

“Brian is almost a grown man, Michael,” David sighed. “He’s about to graduate from college, go out into the real world. Don’t you think it’s about time he stopped hanging on to you, counting on you to always be there to take him home when he’s drunk?”

Michael was about to tell David in no uncertain terms that his friendship with Brian wasn’t about that. Brian and he had been best friends since they were fourteen, they’d been there for each other always; Brian had protected Michael, and Michael had accepted Brian completely. But doubt assailed him, and he stayed silent. What if now that Brian was growing up, like David said, he no longer needed Michael? He had Justin, after all. Justin, who was so smart, witty, talented and sexy. Maybe Brian _had_ grown out of Michael. 

“Come on, let’s go to my room,” David said, leading Michael by the hand to his bedroom.

+

The following morning, Michael and David agreed to have Sunday brunch with Lindsay and Melanie, whom Lindsay described as “just a friend”. Emmett assured Michael it was simply a lesbian euphemism for “latest fuck”, and Michael figured it was none of his business, as long as Lindsay was happy; though, he had to admit it was pretty great to be rid of the long tales of woe caused by Rebecca Tucci. 

Michael remembered that when he first met Lindsay, he’d been jealous of her. It was strange to be introduced to a friend of Brian’s, to someone Brian actually seemed to like, and who, on top of everything, was a girl, and a lesbian. However, as time passed, Michael and Lindsay had forged a friendship, at the center of which was Brian, of course, but it was a true friendship nonetheless. 

Since Debbie was working the Sunday lunch shift at the Liberty Diner because one of the waitresses had fallen ill, Michael had suggested they have brunch there in solidarity. Melanie and Lindsay had readily agreed, and after some complaining, so had David. 

“Hi, Michael!” Lindsay greeted him with a hug outside the diner. “Hi, David, how are you?”

“I’m great, thanks Lindsay,” David replied with a smile.

“You guys remember Mel?” Lindsay gestured to her companion. 

“Sure! Hi, Mel,” Michael extended his hand, which Mel shook with a nod of acknowledgement. 

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced properly yet, it’s nice to meet you,” David said.

“You, too,” Melanie grinned. “Well, shall we?”

They all went inside. Michael noticed his mother near the back and went to greet her while the others sat down in a booth. 

“Oh, honey, it was so nice of you all to come,” Debbie approached them, Michael in tow. “And don’t you four make lovely couples,” she remarked, leaning across the table to pinch David’s cheek.

“Ma! Stop mauling him!” Michael protested, sitting down next to David. Melanie snorted, and Lindsay fought to keep a smile off her face. 

“So, what’ll it be, lovebirds?” Debbie asked, her pen ready.

“The brunch special sounds nice, don’t you think?” David asked Michael, who nodded. “Yeah, we’ll both have the brunch special.”

“You know, I think I will too,” Lindsay said. 

“I’ll just have coffee and a bagel,” Melanie ordered.

“Great, I’ll have your food out for you in a sec,” Debbie was about to leave, but she turned back suddenly. “Oh, before I forget! Honey, do you know how Brian’s dad is doing?”

Michael frowned. “What? What do you mean, how Brian’s dad is doing?”

Debbie cocked her head. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what? What is it?” Lindsay asked, looking alarmed.

Debbie looked back and forth between Michael and Lindsay, then shrugged. “Well, I thought you two of all people would know – Jack Kinney is dying.”

“What?” Lindsay and Michael exclaimed at the same time. 

“How come you know?” Michael asked, almost defiantly. 

“Brian came by the diner a few nights ago, when I was covering the graveyard shift. He looked like shit, and after I asked him, he told me Jack was in the hospital – lung cancer,” Debbie explained.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us,” Lindsay breathed out.

“Well, I haven’t seen you two with him in a while, maybe that’s why,” Debbie remarked off-handedly, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that belied her manner. 

“Well, fancy running into all of you here!” All eyes turned on a recently arrived Emmett and Ted. “And don’t you just look adorable! Double-dating. Don’t they look adorable, Teddy?” Emmett nudged Ted with his elbow.

“Adorable,” Ted repeated sarcastically. 

“Can we sit with you?” Emmett asked, and sat down without waiting for an answer. Ted sat down as well, and after a few seconds passed without anyone saying anything, Emmett inquired, “Are we interrupting something? We can leave if-”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Lindsay quickly assured him.

Michael was struck by a sudden thought. “Emmett, two days ago you asked me if I’d seen Brian. Why?”

Emmett shifted his eyes nervously. “Oh, no particular reason. Just hadn’t seen him around in a while, is all. Why, is he okay?”

Michael sighed. “It’s his dad. My mom just told us he has cancer.”

Emmett brought a hand up to his mouth. “Oh, poor baby. No wonder,” he whispered.

“No wonder what?” Ted asked.

Emmett shook his head, as if dismissing a memory. “No, nothing.” 

+

When brunch was over, Lindsay and Melanie made their way to Lindsay’s dorm room. 

Lindsay was quiet on the way; she was unable to keep her thoughts from going to Brian. She hadn’t had lunch with him in almost a week now; she’d been too busy with Melanie. Honestly, she’d thought Brian wouldn’t mind, that he’d probably be happy to be spared the “muncher meltdowns”, as he called them. 

Lindsay missed Brian, but she’d been having such a great time with Melanie, she’d really neglected him. It was strange, but something in Melanie reminded her of him, an air of ballsiness and strength that spoke to Lindsay. Whatever Emmett might think, she and Melanie hadn’t slept together yet. In fact, Lindsay really did see Melanie as a friend, first and foremost. Of course she was attracted to the soon-to-be lawyer, she had eyes, but what she most enjoyed were the ways Melanie seemed to complete her, and challenge her. There was also a sense of comfort she’d never found with Rebecca. 

Lindsay would always be grateful to Rebecca, because she helped her come out, draw her out of her shell. As had Brian. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t known about Jack, that Brian didn’t tell her. 

A memory came to her, of a very, very drunk and high Brian, talking about his childhood. They’d sat on the floor, sprawled against pillows stolen from her roommate, and talked about games they’d played, middle-school crushes, annoying teachers. At some point, Lindsay had mentioned how much she’d hated her parents’ abandonment, being raised by a nanny instead of by her own mother. Brian grew somber, and told her she was lucky; real parents were overrated. She wondered if the remark had anything to do with the shadow in his eyes whenever a well-meaning parent would come up to Brian after a soccer game and declare his father was sure to be proud of him. He never talked about his parents sober, but Lindsay never forgot his vehemence, the way his eyes darkened with old pain, that night. 

“What’s wrong, Linds? You’re never this quiet,” Melanie remarked.

A bit startled, Lindsay smiled. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just thinking.”

“About Brian?”

“Yeah. I’m worried about him. He doesn’t really deal well with his family,” Lindsay explained. 

Melanie nodded, and they were silent for a few moments.

“You know, I’m going to have to meet the famous Brian Kinney soon,” Melanie said, in an attempt at lightness. “He seems to occupy many people’s thoughts.”

“It’s just the way Brian is. He’s just Brian,” Lindsay said with a small smile, a faraway look in her eyes. She missed the tiniest flare of jealousy in Melanie’s eyes.

+

Justin woke up slowly, unwilling to leave the forgetfulness of sleep. However, all too soon the memories and worries floated to the surface of his awareness, and his peaceful rest was lost. He knew Brian was gone already, off to practice or classes or whatever. Justin sighed. Last night, last night had turned into a lot more than either of them had expected. They’d been unable to stop kissing, touching, and Brian looked so vulnerable, so fucking lost in a way that made Justin ache. So he offered his body, offered what he had; anything to make the darkness leave Brian’s eyes. 

This morning, however, he had no idea what they were. Brian had clearly told him they couldn’t be anything more than friends, and Justin was unwilling to put himself on the line, ask for more. Honestly, he didn’t think he could handle being shot down by Brian again, even if he was shot down for the sake of their friendship. 

He got out of bed with a groan, cursing at life in general. The last thing he wanted to do today was go to class, drink shitty coffee in the bad cafeteria to avoid Ethan, or take a shift at the diner ‘cause he was short on cash. He heard his cell phone ring, and he ran to his room to pick it up.

“Yeah?”

_“Hello? Is this Justin Taylor? You know, my best friend who was supposed to sleep at my place last night, but never showed up?_

Justin cringed. “Hey, Daph. Um, yeah, I’m sorry.”

_“Sorry? I was fucking worried, Justin. You should’ve called.”_

“I know, but my phone was in my room, and I – I wasn’t.”

_“Oh my god! You had sex with Brian again? Weren’t you supposed to have an early dinner with Ethan?”_

“Yeah,” Justin admitted. “But I got kind of sidetracked.”

_“I don’t know who you’re trying to kid, going out with Ethan. So, how did it happen, did you finally tell Brian how you felt?”_

Justin snorted. “Yeah, fat fucking chance. No, it just sort of happened. It was an accident.”

_“Stepping on dog poop is an accident. Breaking your mom’s favorite vase is an accident. Having sex with someone, and by someone I mean the guy you’ve mooned over for two years, is not an accident.”_

“I know. But I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen. He just looked so sad, and so lost, and I wanted to comfort him.”

_“Why? What happened?”_

“His dad’s dying. And he’s an asshole. All of Brian’s family sucks, basically.”

_“Oh, no. Poor Brian. So, what are you going to do?”_

“About what happened? Nothing. I’m still going out with Ethan, and last night meant nothing.”

_“Justin-”_

“It meant nothing, Daph.”

_“Okay.”_

+

Justin stared into the depths of his coffee cup as if it held all the answers. An exam was coming up, and he should have been studying for it, but he couldn’t muster up the will. Sitting in the shittier PIFA cafeteria staring into a cup of lukewarm coffee held more appeal.

“Hey, Jus,” Ethan sat down on the chair across from him.

Justin looked up slowly. “Hi, Ethan. Sorry about dinner last night, something came up – emergency.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ethan said quickly. Justin wondered just how much of his shit Ethan would take. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to reschedule, maybe come over tonight. Stay.”

Justin looked at Ethan for a moment before answering. He felt so fucking confused. “Okay,” he heard himself say. 

It was as if inertia had taken over his life, and he was no longer responsible for his decisions. He agreed to whatever presented itself; he slept with Brian when Brian was there, and he went out with Ethan when Ethan asked. Justin was desperate to break out of it, he could feel something inside screaming. But he kept saying yes, kept letting life lead him along. 

When he got home, he was surprised to find Brian there, working on something on the computer.

“Exam project,” Brian explained, when Justin looked at him questioningly. 

Justin nodded, and headed to his room. He made a mental list of things to do before going to Ethan’s place: make some dinner for Brian, shower, finish the paper on his latest painting. He was startled out of his thoughts by Brian’s arms embracing him. 

Justin turned, and before he could say anything, Brian was kissing him, and Justin was kissing him back. Brian walked Justin backwards to his bed, and they fell against it, kissing and touching frantically. Inertia took over again, but Justin didn’t mind it much, not when it meant Brian kissing him, Brian fucking him. 

When it was over, they lay side by side, catching their breaths. Justin looked toward the bedside table.

“Shit!” he exclaimed when he saw the hour on the digital clock. 

“What?” Brian asked, stretching lazily. 

Justin was distracted for a second, watching the pull and stretch of his muscles. Brian nudged him, and Justin finally replied, “Oh, it’s just that I have to be somewhere.”

Brian’s eyes narrowed. He sat up suddenly, and grabbed Justin’s face, started kissing him fiercely. Justin moaned, sank down on the bed, feeling breathless and weak. Brian attacked his mouth relentlessly, hands roaming, and fighting back Justin’s hands whenever he tried to touch Brian. After what felt an eternity, and a second, Brian leaned back, breathing heavily. He stared down at Justin, hazel eyes unreadable.

“You better take a shower before you go to him. You stink,” he hissed. With that, he left the bed, walking naked to his room. 

Justin stayed where he was, shaking and fighting back tears. He felt like shit, like he was a cheating bastard. But he didn’t know who he was cheating on.

+

Brian stayed inside his room until he heard the front door closing, announcing Justin had left. 

He had no idea why he was feeling like this, betrayed and almost sick with jealousy. Brian Kinney didn’t do jealousy, he didn’t… he didn’t do feelings. Feeling were dangerous, and lesbionic, and he’d trained himself, a long time ago, to push them down. Feelings meant a drunken rage that left you with a bleeding lip hurt more; they meant cold, uncaring words from the person who was supposed to love you cut deep. Feelings were no good. 

He got up, headed to the bathroom. He needed to wash everything away, every scent, every kiss, every caress. Every fucking feeling. He set the water as hot as he could stand it, hotter, and lost himself in the steam and the scalding drops. It was only after he shut the water off that he heard someone was pounding on the door. He grabbed a towel and, annoyed, went to open it. He was not impressed when he saw who it was.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mikey?” he asked, turning his back on his unexpected guest.

“I wanted to check on you,” Michael said.

Brian rolled his eyes. “What the fuck for? Isn’t the good doctor keeping you busy?”

“My mom told me about your father, Brian. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Michael complained.

Brian closed his eyes, and held his tongue. He had gone to Michael, but Michael hadn’t been there. It was just as well. He suddenly recalled what Debbie had told him, when they’d graduated from high school. “You’re starting college, Brian, and so is Michael. Let him go, let him grow up. You know he’s in love with you, and I know you aren’t. Let him find someone who is.” Brian hadn’t acknowledged Debbie’s words, for all the world appearing as if he’d not even heard them. But he had, and he’d kept them in mind. So when Dr. David showed up, Brian figured it was time. Time to let go. 

“Brian! Talk to me!” 

Brian turned around to face Michael. “Your mother shouldn’t have told you. It’s none of her business, and none of yours.”

“But you’re my best friend,” Michael’s eyes were wide, pleading. Begging Brian to say that he was, to assure him he’d always love Michael.

“So fucking what?” Brian shrugged. “Listen, I have an early day tomorrow. Go. Go to your doctor, play naughty patient. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“But-”

Brian grabbed Michael by the arm and practically dragged him to the door. “But nothing. Goodbye, Mikey.” He slammed the door in Michael’s confused face.

Brian leaned against the door, head thrown back. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering how everything could’ve gone so wrong, so fast. He wished he could go back, back to when Justin and he were real roommates, best friends, and they’d go to Babylon, dance, trick; back to when he’d have dinner with Michael three times a week, and laugh at Lindsay’s love woes. But everything was fucked up. Everything was wrong. 

The phone rang. Brian made no move to pick it up. The phone kept on ringing, sounding far too loud and strangely ominous in the silence of the apartment, unti the answering machine clicked on.

“Brian, this is your mother. Your father is dead. He died earlier tonight. Please come by the house as soon as you hear this message, I need some help with the funeral arrangements,” Joan’s voice, cold and clinical, resounded in the silence of the apartment. 

Brian closed his eyes, and sank down to the floor. He hugged his knees to his chest, rested his head on top, ignoring the few tears that were falling. “Your father is dead.” The words echoed inside his head relentlessly. His father was dead. Dead. Jack was dead. 

He didn’t know how much time passed, but, eventually, he took a deep breath and stood up. He got dressed, grabbed his jacket, his wallet, and paused before opening the door. Time to go to Joan’s. Should he call Justin? He was with the fucking fiddler, so fuck him. But when Justin found out about Jack, he’d told Brian to let him know about shit like this. He headed to the phone, and called.

_“Hello? Brian?”_

“Yeah. Uh - my father’s dead.”

_“… shit, Brian. I – Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right there. Where are you?”_

“Going to Joan’s, funeral stuff.”

_“Do you want me to call everyone, let them know?”_

Brian was quiet for a moment. “Yes, please.”

_“Okay. Um, I’ll go home right now, call them, and then I’ll call you. And Brian?”_

“Yeah?”

_“Don’t buy any of your mother’s bullshit. Whatever she says today, just… ignore it.”_

“Yeah,” Brian whispered. “Later.”

_“Later.”_

+

When Brian arrived to his mother’s house, he stood in front of the front door, steeling himself. He took a deep breath, and rang the bell. Claire opened the door, carrying her young son. She was red-eyed, her nose puffy and swollen. 

“Brian. Finally. Come on, mom needs help,” her voice was thin and clogged with tears. 

Brian stared at her for a moment, wondering when they’d become such strangers. Claire used to help Brian hide from Jack, when he was little. But as he grew older, he and Claire had grown further apart. Now, his sister was a bitter young woman who’d gotten pregnant and married right after high school. 

As Brian walked inside the house, he pushed back the memories that sprang to his mind. Curses, yells, fists, bruises – pain. Bad memories, things he’d tried to forget from the second he left, four years ago. His life in this house, his every step in this house. He followed Claire up the stairs, into his parents’ room. Joan stood unmoving in front of the open closet, staring inside. 

“Mom, Brian’s here,” Claire announced.

Joan nodded, but didn’t turn around. Eventually, she met his gaze for a second and said, “Brian, could you please choose a proper suit for your father? I can’t seem to make up my mind. And I need to go call people, prepare some food for after the funeral.”

“Okay,” Brian replied, shrugging. 

“Thank you.” Without giving him anything more than a passing glance, Joan left, and Claire followed her.

Brian sat down on the bed, gazing at the old, moth-eaten suits, the tacky ties. Jack would’ve hated being buried with a suit, he rarely wore one. But Brian figured dying meant everyone could do whatever the fuck they wanted with your body, with your life. Dressing you to their liking, arranging a mass even if you hated the church, speaking of you as if you were a saint even though your own kids hated you. Funerals where so hypocritical. Brian hoped that when he died, everyone would just get fucking drunk and go to Babylon, or the baths. 

“Brian.”

Brian turned around, startled. Michael was standing just inside the doorway, looking a bit nervous. He slowly walked to where Brian was, and sat down next to him on the bed. Brian looked at him, saying nothing. Michael put a hand on Brian’s shoulder, and the soft touch made Brian crumble. He hugged Michael hard, and Michael hugged him back. 

“Mikey, I-”

“Shh. It’s okay, Brian.” 

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Then, Brian leaned back from the embrace. 

“I need to pick a suit for him.” He stood up, and took two ties from a hanger in the closet. “What do you think? Fucking ugly light blue tie, or revolting orange one?”

Michael gave a small smile. “Oh, I think the revolting orange one is going a bit too far. I’d go for the fucking ugly blue one.”

Brian nodded, and threw it on the bed. Then, he started rifling through the clothes, looking for a decent looking shirt. He pulled out a relatively okay looking one, and chose one of the two suits. He placed the complete outfit on the bed. His father would look respectable. Not something he really managed to do while alive. 

“Brian, should I use sugar packets or sugar cubes?” his mother’s voice made him turn around. 

“Hi, Mrs. Kinney. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Michael greeted her, giving her an awkward wave. 

“Oh, thank you Michael,” she said dismissively. “So, what should I use, Brian?”

Brian shrugged. Like he fucking cared. He kept digging around the closet.

“Um, my mom says people usually prefer sugar packets in the diner where she works. Sugar cubes are a bit impractical,” Michael volunteered.

“Very well. Sugar packets it is, then,” Joan said. She glanced at Brian, who was still rummaging around the closet, and added, “Brian, if you want anything, take it. I’m calling Goodwill in the morning.” She turned on her heel and left.

Brian found a familiar looking bag, and took it out. Jack’s bowling bag. He opened it, and took out the ball inside. 

“Oh, I remember that!” Michael exclaimed. 

Yeah, Brian remembered, too. Jack would go bowling instead of going to Brian’s soccer games. Just like he’d go get drunk instead of showing up for Brian’s birthday, or Christmas. Which was ultimately better, because if he did show up, he was likely to give Brian a beating as a present. 

+

Brian was exhausted, and completely strung out. 

He’d had to help his mother write the eulogy, call people, set up the house for whoever came after the funeral. He’d also been forced to use some of his savings to pay for the funeral service, because his mother couldn’t cover the whole fee. Finally, when it was all finished, he drove Michael home, and headed to his apartment. 

Justin was there, awake and waiting for him. He said nothing, simply hugged Brian, handed him some hot chocolate, and led him to his room. “Sleep,” he’d said. 

After Brian crawled inside his bed, Justin lay down next to him, and they slept. 

All too soon, the alarm was going off, and they had to dress in black and go to the funeral. Brian was quiet, and Justin seemed to understand, didn’t push for conversation. He was simply there, making him breakfast, handing him a cup of strong coffee. It was raining, and the day was cold and shrouded in silence. A fucking perfect day for a funeral. 

When they finally arrived to the cemetery, Brian was surprised to see not only Michael, Debbie, and Vic, but also Lindsay, with a dark-haired woman he guessed was Melanie, Emmett, Ted and Daphne. Michael went to his side immediately, and Brian gave him a small smile. 

Debbie gave him a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, honey.” 

Vic squeezed his shoulder, but said nothing. He knew how Brian felt about his parents. Brian frowned. Vic didn’t look too well, he was far too pale and thin. He’d ask Debbie if everything was alright later. 

“Oh, Brian. I’m so sorry, I – I wish you’d told me he was sick,” Lindsay hugged him, and took his hand in hers. “This is Melanie,” she gestured to the woman beside her. 

“I’m sorry we’re meeting at such a…” Melanie trailed off, shrugging.

“Fucking awkward occasion?” Brian suggested. “Whatever.”

Melanie looked rather taken aback. Brian couldn’t care less. If she was anything like Lindsay’s old girlfriend, she’d hate Brian in about ten seconds. 

When he reached Emmett and Ted, Brian was surprised. They didn’t offer their condolences, or give him appeasing words. Emmett gave him a small smile, and hugged him. Ted simply said, “Hey, Bri,” and patted him on the back. 

Daphne gave him a peck on the lips, and Brian grinned, saying “Daph, just ‘cause my dad died doesn’t mean I’m suddenly into pussy.” 

She winked and replied, “Well, a girl’s gotta take any chance she gets.”

The priest arrived, and started the service. Brian stood underneath an umbrella with Justin on one side of him and Michael in the other. He stared at the casket, the wooden box that held Jack. Claire was sobbing loudly, and Joan kept nudging her to be quiet. Claire’s son started crying as well, unable to understand what was happening, but imitating his mom. Claire slapped the back of his head to shut him up. Brian glared at her. 

“Jack Kinney was a good man. A hard worker, a family man…”

When he heard the priest’s words, Brian frowned. Who the fuck was he talking about? Jack Kinney was a mean asshole. A steel worker who was drunk more than he was sober, a man who never wanted a family, and took it out on his son. Unable to hear any more, Brian handed the umbrella to Michael and walked away, letting the snow fall on him. 

He hated this shit. People pretending they liked Jack, that they cared he’d died. The asshole was dead, what was the fucking point in having a ceremony? They ought to be having a party. In a few seconds, both Justin and Michael were by his side, Justin putting an arm around Brian’s waist and Michael making sure the umbrella covered him. Brian took out a joint he’d prepared from his coat pocket, and lit up. He offered it to Justin and Michael, but they refused. Brian shrugged. He needed an illegal substance in his blood if he was to survive the upcoming reunion at Joan’s house. 

+

After the service was over, everyone headed to the Kinney’s house for some food. Michael walked with Brian and Justin, anxiously looking at Brian every few seconds. He couldn’t believe he’d smoked that joint, in the middle of the funeral. Then again, Michael was sure Brian didn’t want to be fully conscious in his mother’s house.

“Mikey, stop looking at me like I’m going to take off my clothes and run around naked. I’m fine,” Brian admonished.

Michael nodded sheepishly. His phone started vibrating, and he fished it out of his pocket. 

“Hello?” 

_“Michael, it’s me. Where are you?”_

Michael hung back, letting Brian and Justin walk on without him. “I’m going to the Kinney’s house, David.”

_“Why?”_

“Because Brian’s mom organized a get together after the funeral.”

_“But why do you have to go?”_

Michael rolled his eyes. “I have to go because Brian’s going to be there. He’s my best friend, David, and his dad just died. I have to be there for him.”

“ _It’s always Brian. You stood me up for dinner yesterday, and for brunch today. We were supposed to have brunch with Laura and James, remember?”_

“I know we were. And I’m sorry, but… this is more important.”

_“So Brian is more important than me? Is that how this is?”_

“Jesus Christ, David! That’s not what I meant!”

_“Isn’t it? It seems to me you’d rather spend time with Brian than with me. You never want to have dinner with my friends, you refuse to move in with me…”_

“You really want to have this conversation right now?” Michael was pacing. He didn’t notice Debbie and Vic walking toward him.

_“Yes, I do.”_

“Fine,” Michael was quickly losing patience. “I don’t like to have dinner with your friends because I feel more out of place than a toe in a snapping turtle’s convention. They make me feel unaccomplished, and stupid. And I don’t want to move in with you because I’m twenty-two years old, David! I – I want to have a little fun. To hang out with my friends, to have sex with a few strangers before I commit myself to someone.”

_“So it’s true, then. You’d rather hang out with Brian.”_

“David, I haven’t hung out with Brian in ages! I’ve been with you all this time. But-” Michael sighed, the fight leaving him. “You know what? If you can’t understand why it’s important I’m here with Brian, with my best friend… then, I don’t know what we’re doing together. You need someone else, David. Someone who’s ready for a committed relationship, someone who only wants to spend time with you. I’m not that guy.”

_“Are you… are you breaking up with me?”_

Michael was silent for a moment. He couldn’t believe he was actually breaking up with David, with the first guy to show real interest in him. David, who wanted Michael to move in with him, who wanted to be with him for good. But he couldn’t do it anymore. They had so very little in common, they were in such different places in their lives. It couldn’t work. 

“Yeah… I guess I am.”

Michael closed his phone. He sighed, closing his eyes. 

“You did the right thing, honey,” his mom’s voice startled him, and he opened his eyes to see Debbie and Vic in front of him.

“You – you heard?”

Debbie nodded. “I thought David was a good guy, Michael. But you were right to break up with him. You wanted different things.”

“And he was something of a controlling asshole,” Vic added. 

Debbie glared at him. “Vic!”

“What? He was!” Vic shrugged.

Michel started chuckling. His mom and uncle always cheered him up, whether they meant to or not. “Come on. Let’s go to Joan’s house.”

Michael was hard pressed to remember a more awkward afternoon than what he was currently living. Brian was morosely sitting on one of the couches, Justin next to him, and Daphne next to Justin. Lindsay, Melanie, Ted and Emmett were nervously making their way through most of the food. Claire was still sobbing loudly, ignoring her son who was pulling on her dress, and Joan was quickly getting drunk on sherry.

Claire suddenly grabbed a glass and started tapping on it with a spoon. When everyone was quiet, she started speaking. “Um, I was thinking that everyone could share something they remembered about Daddy, to honor his memory.” Brian snorted loudly from his place on the couch. Claire ignored him. “Would you like to start, Father?”

“Oh, um. Jack didn’t come to church often, so I didn’t really know him all that well,” the priest said apologetically. 

“Anyone?” Claire asked, looking at everyone.

“Uh – he once told me I had lovely hair,” Lindsay said, hesitantly. 

Daphne rolled her eyes. Michael figured that was Jack Kinney’s code for a nice rack. 

Awkward silence filled the room once again. Desperate to do something, Michael said, “Well, I have a pretty nice memory.” Everyone turned to look at him, and Michael grinned nervously. “Mr. Kinney once took Brian and me bowling, back when we were fourteen. Brian and I really sucked, every ball kept going to the gutter, but finally, Brian got a strike,” Michael paused, met Brian’s bleak eyes. “And, uh, Mr. Kinney was so proud, he cheered for us, bought us an ice-cream. It was a pretty cool moment, especially for me, ‘cause I don’t have a dad.”

“Thank you, Michael. That was a lovely memory,” Claire gave him a watery smile.

“I have another lovely memory,” Brian suddenly spoke up. Everyone turned to look at him. “When my mother found out she was pregnant with me, Jack told her to put on her finest dress, ‘cause he was taking her out to dinner. After a glass of great wine, he took her hand, and told her, “Joanie, you’re getting an abortion.” But my mother didn’t, because it wouldn’t have been the catholic thing to do. Hell of a guy, wasn’t he?” Brian smiled coldly.

“Brian!” Claire and Joan exclaimed. Lindsay and Melanie looked shocked, and Melanie frowned at Brian. Debbie and Vic looked sad, and Justin simply took one of Brian’s hands in his.

“He isn’t telling the truth, is he?” Emmett quietly asked Michael. 

“Actually, he probably is,” Michael replied. 

Emmett and Ted looked at each other, then at Brian, who was taking out his father’s bowling ball from the bag.

“And I thought my childhood was fucked up,” Emmett said, softly. 

Ted kept looking at Brian, deep sympathy evident in his features. 

+

Everyone was quiet after Brian’s story. Brian was rifling through his father’s bowling bag, and Justin noticed he found a red and yellow bowling shirt. 

Brian took it out, stared at it for a moment, and stood up, leaving the bag and the ball with Justin. He headed in the direction of the bathroom. Justin stared after him, worried. After a few minutes, he was back, wearing the bowling shirt. Everyone stared at him, but Brian paid them no mind. 

“Come with me.” Brian’s voice was quiet and certain, and there was an undertone of need that made Justin ache for him. 

When Brian held out his hand, and led Justin outside of Joan’s house, Justin asked no questions, he simply followed. Brian led him to his Jeep, and Justin climbed in. They drove off, telling no one they were leaving. Justin had no idea where they were going, and he was surprised when they stopped by the bowling alley. Michael’s story sprang to his mind, and Justin wondered if it was true. It didn’t sound like something Jack would do. 

They walked inside the bowling alley, and Brian rented two pairs of bowling shoes and a lane. Justin and Brian put on the bowling shoes, and Brian helped Justin pick a ball that fit his grip properly.

Before walking down the lane, Justin bit his lip, and asked, “Brian, was Michael telling the truth?” 

Brian looked toward the bowling lanes before answering. 

He glanced back at Justin, and shook his head. “Not really. I did get a strike that day, and Mikey and I started celebrating. Mikey actually kissed me,” Brian smiled. “But when Jack saw us, he started yelling that we were a couple of fairies, and that he didn’t want a fairy for a son. So I ran away, before he could hit me,” Brian finished with a shrug.

Justin nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and knowing better than to express sympathy, or pity. He’d always known Brian had a hard life at home, but it hurt so fucking much to realize how hard. It made him want to bring Jack Kinney back to life if only to kill him again. Brian handed him the ball they’d chosen, shaking him out of his vindictive thoughts. 

“Go on, Sunshine. Let it roll,” he gestured toward the lane.

Justin walked slowly, holding the ball. He really sucked at bowling. He threw the ball down the lane, praying it wouldn’t head off into the gutter. The ball rolled down the center steadily, but halfway to the pins, it lost wind and veered off to the right. In the end, Justin only knocked down two pins. Dejected, he walked back to Brian.

“Oh, look! The queers can’t bowl!” Two men in the lane next to them started making fun of them, calling names, hooting. 

Justin thought Brian would kick their ass, but Brian paid them no mind. He stood up, taking his father’s ball, and steadily walked down the lane, and, with perfect technique, threw the ball down the lane. It flew towards the pins, straight and true, and when it knocked them all down, Justin couldn’t contain himself.

“Strike!” he cheered, running to hug Brian.

Brian laughed, and with a triumphant grin, turned to the men who were watching open-mouthed. “The queers got a strike! And the queers are gonna celebrate.”

Brian hugged Justin back, and they jumped up and down like little kids, locked in each other’s arms. Suddenly, Brian bent Justin over his arm, and kissed him. Justin kissed him back, and for a moment, the whole world disappeared. It no longer mattered that Brian’s father had died, that Ethan existed, that they’d spent so much time avoiding whatever they really meant to each other. 

For a single moment, all that mattered was them. Brian and Justin, together. 

+

After their bowling game, Brian and Justin drove back to the apartment. Justin was a bit worried, since Brian was drinking straight from a bottle of Beam he’d stolen from his mother’s house, but Brian was driving straight enough. Out of the blue, Brian stopped the car in the middle of the street.

“Brian?” Justin was bewildered. 

Brian didn’t answer. He grabbed the bowling ball from Jack’s bag in the backseat, and got out of the car. Justin got out as well, scared that Brian might decide to vandalize a house with a bowling ball. 

But Brian walked to the middle of the street, and with perfect grace, threw the ball down the asphalt. As it faded from their view, Brian raised his arms in silent victory. Justin looked at him, amazed at the fact he could look so fucking strong and so damned vulnerable at the same time. His lean, tall body mirrored the many contradictions and complexities of his personality. A terrible and overwhelming beauty encased in sharp angles and straight lines.

“Goodbye, Jack,” Justin whispered. 

Brian turned, and smiled, free. 

They got back into the car, and drove home. Once in the apartment, Brian and Justin sat on Brian’s bed, and passed the bottle of whiskey back and forth. They didn’t speak, because words were unnecessary. When they finished the Beam, Justin got up and headed to the kitchen. He was hungry, and he wanted some water. He returned to Brian’s room with a Cheerio’s cereal box and a bottle of water, and he smiled when he saw Brian was dozing. He sat down next to him, and after putting his water bottle down, he combed his fingers through Brian’s hair. 

Brian stirred. He opened his eyes, and after a moment, focused on Justin. “M’glad you’re here, Justin.”

“I’m glad I’m here too, Brian,” Justin smiled at him. 

“I hate it when you leave. When you go to Ethan. It hurts,” Brian whispered. 

Justin said nothing, waiting for Brian to continue. But Brian was asleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A constant and annoying beeping sound woke Justin from a deep sleep. He groaned the moment he opened his eyes, because the light hurt and his head was pounding. His mouth felt cottony and he was sure his breath was rank.

“Oh, shit.” 

Brian’s voice made Justin turn quickly, something he regretted immediately. He almost laughed at Brian’s state, but then reflected he probably looked no better. Brian’s face had pillow marks, and his hair was in a state of disarray unknown to Justin up to then – it truly took bed-head to a new level. 

After a few moments, Brian sat up, and with a loud groan, a hand went up to his forehead. “Gotta take a shower. Soccer practice.” 

“You mean you have to deal with Jenkins the asshole _and_ a killer hangover?” Justin frowned.

Brian nodded unhappily. “Yeah, the final game is, like, next week.”

“Well, that sucks.” A sudden thought struck Justin. Brian usually had soccer practice at seven in the morning. “What time is it, anyway?”

Brian glanced to the digital clock on the nightstand. “Six in the morning,” he replied, with a yawn.

“You motherfucker! I don’t have to be up until eight!” 

Brian started chuckling. “Yeah, I know. But hey, you slept in my bed, you drank my whiskey… the least you can do is suffer with me.” With that, Brian stood up and headed to the bathroom.

Justin glared after him. “Asshole,” he muttered, covering his head with the duvet. 

As sleep was about to overtake him, Justin remembered what Brian had said last night. _“I hate it when you leave. When you go to Ethan. It hurts.”_ He wondered if Brian remembered. He probably did. Regardless of what everyone thought, Brian was always a lot less drunk than he appeared to be, because he hated being out of total control, and he never forgot anything. He pretended to forget, if it suited him, but he never did. And what was more, he never said anything he didn’t mean. 

Considering that, Justin made a decision. It was about fucking time to speak, to go after what he really wanted, what he’d wanted for two years. 

+

When Justin arrived at the PIFA campus, he headed to the music department with purpose. He walked down the main hallway, staring into the different practice rooms, until he found the person he was looking for. 

“Ethan,” he called out.

Ethan turned around, his violin still poised by his neck. “Justin!” he seemed surprised. “How are you? You ran out the night before last, I was worried.”

Justin walked closer, and said, “I’m okay. Brian’s dad died, that’s why I ran out.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Oh. Is he okay?”

Justin fought a grin. Like Ethan gave a damn whether Brian was alright or not. “He’s fine, thanks.” 

“Good. So, uh, what brings you here? Do you want to get some coffee, or something?” Ethan gestured to the door with his bow. 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

Ethan finally set his violin down, carefully placing the bow and instrument in a case. “What about?”

“About us.” Justin took a deep breath. “Listen, Ethan, whatever this is, whatever we are… it’s just not working.”

Ethan simply stared at Justin, saying nothing.

“You’re a great guy, Ethan, you really are. But we,” Justin gestured to the both of them. “We don’t work. Not as anything more than friends. I mean, sure, we have fun, but there’s no chemistry. No passion. And it’s not fair to you, for me to keep saying yes when I don’t mean it.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s it, then?”

“Yes, I think it is,” Justin gave an apologetic shrug.

“You want to know what I really think?” Ethan asked, voice taking on an almost vicious tone. Justin raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re in love with Brian, and you always have been. You lust after him, you want him to fuck you. Well, he might fuck you one day, Justin, but he won’t love you. He’ll always be an asshole.”

“You’re absolutely right. I _am_ in love with Brian.” Justin gave Ethan a brilliant smile. What a pretentious asshole, Justin felt like punching him. But he did something better. “And he’s already fucked me. A few times, actually, it was fucking fantastic. And, you know what? I don’t really give a shit what you think.” With that, Justin turned and left, leaving a gaping Ethan behind.

Justin took out his cell phone and called Daphne as he was walking to the cafeteria. 

_“Hi, Justin! How’s Brian doing?”_

“So nice to know he’s the foremost man in your thoughts, rather than your wonderful best friend,” Justin said, dramatically.

_“Well, wonderful best friend, you’re cute, but thinking about you is, like, incestuous. Thinking about Brian is more like adulterous, and you know how I love a good drama.”_

Justin snorted. “Fine, fine. Brian’s doing okay, we got plastered last night.”

_“Nothing like some healthy pain management. Actually, getting plastered is pretty fitting, something of an Irish send off. How’s the hangover?”_

“Not so bad. Nothing a glass of water, aspirin, and an unhealthy amount of coffee can’t cure. So, guess what?”

_“You’ve decided to become a drag queen? No, no, I know! You’re adopting a pet duck! No-”_

Justin rolled his eyes. Daphne was so retarded sometimes. “No, you idiot. I broke up with Ethan!” he interrupted.

_“Can you break up with someone you cheated on for the entire time you went out?”_

“Daph! Missing the point here!”

“Sorry, sorry. Just curious. Anyway, I think it’s great. The fiddler was in dire need of a bath, if you ask me, and I hated that little chin rat. Also, can we say flabby stomach?”

Justin started laughing. “Yeah, I know.”

“So what led to this decision, if I may ask?”

“It was something Brian said last night, actually. When we got home, and after we finished a bottle of whiskey.”

_“What did he say? “Justin, I love your tight ass” and then he puked?”_

“Gross! No,” Justin chuckled, but the memory of last night made his mirth die down quickly. “No, he said it hurt when I left with Ethan. When I left him.” Justin swallowed. It had been such an intense moment, especially after everything Brian had lived through that day. 

_“Whoa,”_ Daphne breathed out. _“That’s – whoa.”_

“I know. So I decided that, whatever happens, I’m going for it. I’m going to talk to Brian, and tell him I want to be with him, not as fuck buddies, but for real.”

_“Hallefuckinglujah.”_

+

Michael was about to walk out of his apartment, when the phone rang. He quickly answered; hoping whoever was on the other side of the line wouldn’t take ages, because he needed to get to work. 

“Hello?”

“ _Michael, honey?”_

“Yeah, Ma. What’s wrong?” His mother’s voice sounded wobbly.

_“Um, it’s Vic, darling. He had a bad reaction to the cocktail they started him on a few weeks ago.”_

“Shit. Are you in Allegheny General?” Oh, crap. This was the last thing they needed, Vic getting sick again. 

_“Yeah.”_

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

_“But, your work, sweetie, I-_ ”

“Never mind about that, Ma. I’ll call in sick.” When he hung up, Michael sighed. Vic had looked the worse for wear for more than two weeks, and Michael had feared something like this would happen. 

He picked up the phone again, and called Brian. He needed Brian.

+

Michael was pacing on the sidewalk in front of his building. When Brian’s Jeep tore into his street and stopped in front of him, Michael jumped in. 

“Sorry to take you out of class, Brian,” he said quickly, giving his friend a kiss on the lips as greeting.

“Don’t mention it. One of my classmates was giving a fucking terrible presentation, and I was bored off my ass, you did me a favor.”

Brian drove fast, barely avoiding a collision once and breaking a handful of transit rules, but neither of them really cared. They made it to the hospital in record time, and Brian parked haphazardly, taking over two spaces. Michael didn’t wait for the car to stop before getting out and running inside the Emergency Room, Brian following not far behind. They walked into the Emergency Room and quickly spotted Debbie, who looked tired and worried. 

“Ma, what happened?” Michael asked, after hugging her.

“He collapsed this morning, in the bathroom,” Debbie explained, drying her eyes with a tissue Brian handed her.

“The meds weren’t working, were they?” Brian asked quietly.

“No,” Debbie sighed wearily. “It was a bad combination.”

Brian nodded, his jaw tense. “So, what are the doctors saying?”

“They told me that after they counteract the effects, Vic should be fine. They’ll try a new combination of meds, and he should be able to go home soon.”

“Ma’m?” A nurse interrupted them. “Mr. Grassi is awake, and asking for you.”

“Oh, okay,” Debbie turned back to Brian and Michael. “You boys-”

“We’ll be here,” Michael assured her. They sat down on the hard, plastic chairs of the waiting room. Michael bit his lip. Things weren’t going well lately. Actually, that was an understatement. Things were fucking horrible lately.

“Cheer up, Mikey. He’ll be alright. You know he’s a fighter.” Brian put an arm around Michael’s shoulders.

“I know,” Michael rested his head on Brian’s shoulder. “It’s just. Things are kinda sucking lately,” he breathed out. 

Michael was feeling like everything was going wrong, first dropping out of school, then breaking up with David, now Vic. He hadn’t told Brian about David yet, and in the present circumstances it seemed rather trivial. 

Brian was quiet for a moment, but then took Michael’s face in his hands. “Mikey, listen to me. Are you listening?”

“I’m listening.”

“Your mom told me what happened with the doctor yesterday; that you broke up with him. She also told my why you broke up with him. If it’s what you wanted Mikey, what you felt, then it was the right decision. And I’m so proud you stood up for yourself like that,” Brian gave him a small smile.

Michael smiled back. “You are?”

“Fuck, yeah. That took guts, Mikey. Don’t worry about not having a boyfriend, or a regular fuck, or whatever. You’re amazing, Michael. And you’ll find someone as amazing as you, someone who makes you really happy.”

Michael rested his head on Brian’s arm once more.

For a long time, ever since they first became friends, Michael thought Brian would be the person he’d end up with. The amazing person who would make him happy. But Brian was his friend, his best friend, and honestly, Michael didn’t think either of them would have survived a relationship. They needed their friendship, their brotherhood, and they worked best just as friends. 

Brian’s phone started ringing, and Brian fished it out of his pocket to answer. He smiled when he saw the number in the caller ID.

“Hey… no, don’t worry. He’s already awake, and they think he’ll get better quickly. It’s just a matter of finding the right meds… no, you need to stay to present your final project. I’ll keep you updated, okay?... Yeah, okay. Good luck, Justin. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

Michael stared at Brian speculatively. Brian and Michael might work best as friends, but Brian and Justin? There had always been more from day one. 

+

Ted walked into Woody’s, looking for Emmett. They’d arranged to meet for a few drinks after work, and maybe go to Bablyon later. 

“Hi, baby!” Emmett waved from a table. 

As if Ted needed help locating him, considering he was wearing a bright yellow shirt with feathers in the collar, and tangerine leather pants. There was no way Emmett could ever get lost in a crowd, and Ted admired him for it. 

“Hey, Em. How are you?” Ted greeted Emmett with a peck on the lips, and sat down across from him on a stool. 

“I’m good, but kind of tired. This wannabe leather queen came into the store today, and tried on every single leather item we had,” Emmett rolled his eyes. “And then, he made me pretend to be his dom and walk him around the store with a leash! Honestly, it’s amazing how indecisive people are these days.”

Ted chuckled. “Yeah, I think that guy’s peculiarity was definitely indecisiveness.”

“Oh, you don’t have anything to drink, sweetie! What do you want? This is great,” Emmett raised a cocktail glass with a neon green drink inside, and a cornucopia of fruit on a stick as adornment. 

“Um, I think I’ll have a vodka tonic,” Ted said, and headed to the bar to order his drink. When he had his drink, he turned back to walk to their table, and noticed Brian talking to Emmett, who looked agitated at whatever Brian was saying.

“What’s wrong?” Ted asked, when he reached the table.

“Vic,” Brian replied shortly.

“He’s in the hospital!” Emmett exclaimed, and Ted noticed tears pooling in his eyes.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a fucking drama queen, Honeycutt. He’s gonna be fine, they just need to find the right drug combination.”

“I can be as much a drama queen as I want, Brian. And don’t call me Honeycutt,” Emmett glared at Brian.

“Well, is there something we can do?” Ted asked.

“Debbie is in the hospital right now,” Brian answered, waving a hand. “She sent Michael off to work, and me to fuck,” Ted and Emmett stared at Brian. “What? Her words, not mine. Anyway, she could use some company, and she was sick of Mikey and me.”

“I’ll go,” Emmett said, standing up. “I’ll swing by the diner and get her something to eat, too. Bye, Teddy,” he said, kissing Ted on the forehead. “Take care, Brian. Thanks for letting us know.”

“No problem,” Brian said, taking Emmett’s seat. 

Ted was surprised. Why in hell would Brian Kinney choose to sit with him rather than go get a trick and fuck him in the bathroom? He tried to think of a time when Brian had actually talked to him, without Emmett or Michael around. Nothing really came to mind. A second after Brian sat down, the bartender came out from behind the bar and handed him a shot glass of whiskey. 

“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

The bartender looked Brian up and down. “How about you don’t pay me with money?”

Brian smirked, but shook his head, and took out some money. “Repeats aren’t really my thing, but thanks for the offer.” The bartender went away looking disheartened. 

“What? How?” Ted was dumbfounded. It appeared that Brian didn’t have to go get a trick, the tricks came to him.

“I fucked him a few weeks ago. Guess he liked what he got,” Brian shrugged. 

Ted shook his head. “Brian, you’re really something.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t necessarily mean it as a compliment,” Ted grinned. 

Brian’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, fuck you, Theodore.”

“Don’t think I’m your type,” Ted chuckled. 

He took a drink from his vodka tonic. He actually kind of liked talking to Brian, if only to trade insults. Brian was sharp and funny, brutally so. Still, Ted had wondered about him, since he met him. Was he really happy? Fucking and sucking his way through life, never bothering to make a real connection? Since Brian hadn’t left yet, Ted thought he wouldn’t lose anything by asking. 

“It must be pretty great to fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. But don’t you ever want to be with just one person, have a real relationship?”

Brian snorted. “Why would I want that?” There was something in Brian’s tone that made Ted wonder. It wasn’t quite as snarky and certain as usual. 

“Oh, I don’t know, to feel loved, appreciated, known. All those things that make life worth living,” Ted said, his voice taking on an advertising tone.

“If the accounting thing doesn’t work out, you should really go for being a corny ad voice,” Brian smirked. He cocked his head, and stared at Ted. 

“What?” Ted asked. Did he have a huge zit on his forehead? Did the shirt he was wearing make him look really fat? Oh, shit, it totally did. He knew it when he put it on. Damn…

“You’re one to talk,” Brian finally replied. “You’ve wanted Michael since the moment you saw him, and you don’t have the guts to tell him. Or to get over him, and find someone who wants you back.”

Ted swallowed. He remembered that once, when he and Emmett were talking about their friends, Emmett mentioned that while Brian may act like an asshole, he was one of the few people who dared tell you the truth, even when it was hard to hear, and that it was an admirable trait. Emmett didn’t mention how much it hurt to be on the receiving end of the truth, however. 

Ted sighed. “I know. But who the hell would want me back?” he grinned weakly.

Brian raised an eyebrow, and in an almost contemptuous voice, said, “Listen, Theodore. There’s nothing more fucking unattractive than self-pity. You could be the hottest man in the world, but if you’re insecure, you won’t get laid. Want some advice?” He leaned across the table, hazel eyes intense. “Grow some balls. Stop wallowing in self-pity. Self-confidence is much more attractive.” Brian stood up, drank his whiskey down, and left. 

“Thanks, Bri,” Ted whispered. 

He suddenly noticed a blond guy staring at him. His first instinct was to think the guy was making fun of him, or wondering if Ted could introduce him to Brian, but remembering Brian’s words, he stood up, and went to the guy’s side. There was no harm in trying.

+

Brian walked down Liberty Avenue to his car, ignoring the looks he was getting. 

Somehow, he didn’t feel like fucking a random trick. Whatever happened between them, whether they fucked or not, all he really wanted was to get home and see Justin. He felt like a total lesbian for even thinking it, but it was the truth. He’d even had a drink with Theodore, of all people. It was official, Brian Kinney was going soft. Not in the way that mattered, obviously, but, you know, feelings-wise. 

Brian heard the phone ringing inside the apartment just as he was opening the door. He ran inside the apartment just as Justin was running out of his room, but Brian got to the phone first. He smirked, and Justin stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Yeah?”

_“Brian, Vic’s alright! They found the right meds, and his viral load is going down quickly. They’ll probably let him out tomorrow, or the day after.”_

Brian sighed with relief. Somehow, the idea of Vic being sick, Vic dying, hurt him more than his own father’s death. Vic had always been more of a father figure to him than Jack Kinney. “That’s great news, Mikey. Call me when you know what time he’s getting out, so I can pick him up, okay?”

_“Will do. Later, Brian.”_

“Later, Mikey.” Brian hung up, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Justin stared at him expectantly. “Vic’s viral load is going down. They found the right combination, he’s going to be alright.”

“Yes!” Justin threw himself into Brian’s arms. “Fuck, I’m so glad. I was so worried,” his voice was muffled because he was speaking to Brian’s chest. 

“Me, too,” Brian said. 

They stayed like that, hugging by the phone. Brian breathed in Justin’s scent, that scent he knew better than his own. Paint and turpentine, the Hugo Boss cologne Brian bought for Justin’s first student showing, after weeks of saving, and something else, an elusive quality that was Justin’s alone. He wondered if Justin remembered what he’d said last night. He couldn’t believe the words actually came out of his mouth. He’d been so drunk, he just thought aloud. 

“Brian,” Justin whispered, breaking the silence. Brian looked down, met his eyes. “I – I want you.” 

There was no doubt about what Justin meant, not with the hunger and lust, and, fuck, love, all blazing in those blue eyes.

Brian raised an eyebrow. He was a fool for actually asking this, but he had to. “And the fiddler?” 

“He fell off the roof,” Justin grinned. 

Brian grinned back, and kissed him. Kissed him to say everything he had to say, everything he couldn’t. Want you, too. Need you. Love you. 

He leaned back from the kiss, and took Justin by the hand to lead him to his room. He made Justin lie down, and undressed him carefully, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered. Taking in all of Justin, just as Justin took him in, saw him at his very worst, yet still wanted him. Brian took off his own clothes, and took a condom and the bottle of lube from the nightstand. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other, their lips off each others’ lips. As Brian moved inside Justin, he felt something between them shift. An understanding, an agreement and a promise, made by their eyes, their lips and their bodies. 

+

Justin drifted awake, but refused to open his eyes. He breathed in the scent of Brian, whose arm was thrown across his waist; he basked in the shared heat of their bodies. He shifted his body slightly, shortening the distance between Brian and himself.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna have to fuck you, Sunshine,” Brian growled softly in his ear.

Justin grinned. “That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

Justin was relaxed and horny, and as he felt Brian slip inside gently, he felt like he was still dreaming. They had sex slowly, languorously, every nerve end tingling with sensation. Justin threw his head back onto Brian’s shoulder, and Brian swallowed his soft moans with kisses. 

When it was over, Justin smiled. “I think I could just stay in bed all day long.”

“I think that’s an excellent plan. Why don’t we?” Brian wiggled his eyebrows.

Justin chuckled. “Well, ‘cause I have to go see what I got on my final project, you have soccer practice, and I’m pretty sure your ‘Art in the Modern Age’ final is today.”

Brian groaned. “Shit, you’re right. And I paid zero attention to the lectures, because Lindsay kept me busy with all those notes about her muncher drama with Rebecca Tucci.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ace anyway. I trust your amazing powers of – what are your amazing powers of, again?”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Do you need yet another demonstration?” He pressed closer to Justin.

“Oh, yeah, I remember now,” Justin laughed. “Somehow, I don’t think being an amazing fuck is going to make you pass Art, though.”

“I’m not just an amazing fuck, Sunshine, I’m the best. And, who knows, maybe the teacher or the T.A. are totally desperate for sex and I can fuck my way to a good grade,” Brian shrugged. 

“Isn’t your Art teacher like, sixty-five years old?” Justin wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah. So? I bet she’s as fond of a good cock as the next person.”

“Ew! Briaaan. I so didn’t need that image in my head,” Justin swatted a hand on Brian’s chest, which Brian caught, and used to pull him in for a deep kiss. 

“Image gone?” Brian breathed into Justin’s mouth. 

Justin nodded and kissed him again. After they parted, he laid his head on Brian’s chest, listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart. The silence between them was comfortable, but the slight fluttering in Justin’s stomach reminded him it was time to speak, to start the conversation he should have started a long time ago. 

“Brian?” His voice sounded oddly squeaky. What the hell was up with that?

 

“Hmm,” Brian rumbled.

“Um, I need to tell you something. We need to talk,” Justin sat up, sad to vacate his comfortable place, but needing to make eye contact with Brian. Also, Brian was likely to seduce him into silence if he let him, so a healthy bodily distance was required. 

“Talk?” Brian raised an eyebrow. “About?”

“Us. And don’t say something like “there is no us”, because there so is. You can’t bullshit your way out of this,” Justin admonished. 

Brian raised his hands in faux surrender. “Wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Right,” Justin huffed. He took a deep breath, and gathered his quickly racing thoughts. “I need to tell you what I want, Brian. And to say that, I have to tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want to be a fuck buddy, or a repeat trick. I want to really be with you,” Justin paused, almost smiling and the slight panic he could see in Brian’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean we have to become breeders, and that you have to give me your school ring, or whatever. I don’t want a bullshit, clichéd romance, and I don’t expect total monogamy, even though we’d have to make some rules about tricking.” Justin paused, thinking of the best way to say what came next. He pushed his hair away from his eyes, and continued, “I don’t really want a boyfriend – I want a partner. Someone to share the good times, and the bad times. To fight with, and then have kick-ass make up sex with. Someone to be proud of me, and someone to be proud of. And above all things, I want _you_.”

Justin’s stomach was no longer fluttering, it was doing somersaults. 

Whoever said the heart was the seat of human emotion had clearly never actually felt anything, or had failed anatomy in high school. Brian was looking down, apparently fascinated by the bed sheet covering his lap, and he was absent-mindedly fiddling with a loose thread. Justin was scared, to be honest. It was a relief, to finally let things out in the open, but he was also close to panicking. He’d bet everything, laid himself on the line, and he might just come out a loser. Finally, Brian looked up. In those hypnotic hazel eyes Justin read a touch of fear, some resistance; but he also saw acceptance, agreement, and love.

“I – I think I’m a pretty fucking bad candidate to be anyone’s partner, Justin. I can’t promise you I won’t fuck up, ‘cause I think I’ll fuck up more often and more spectacularly than most people,” Brian started quietly. He cleared his throat. “But I _can_ promise to try. ‘Cause I want you, too.”

Justin smiled, and Brian smiled back, an open, beautiful smile that made Justin’s breath catch in his throat. He leaned in to kiss Brian, not really caring that the kiss would lead to being late for class; it was worth it. For the first time in what seemed ages, Justin felt right. There was no more inertia, no more sorrow, no more helpless anger and lust; in their place, there was a simple and strong certainty, there was happiness.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Emmett was in the hospital, entertaining Vic while his ride home arrived, since he’d been discharged.

“I think Teddy met someone,” Emmett confided. Vic raised his eyebrows, and waved a hand to tell Emmett to continue. “When I called him yesterday morning, I heard someone else in the room with him.”

“It could’ve been the TV,” Vic pointed out.

“That’s what I thought at first, but then I heard this person saying, “I’m going to take a shower, Ted”, and Teddy was all in a hurry to hang up with me, probably because he wanted to have shower sex. I can’t believe he met someone! It’s so exciting,” Emmett enthused, clapping his hands. 

He so hoped he was right, that Ted was with somebody. Nobody deserved it more than him.

“What’s so exciting?” Emmett and Vic looked up to see Michael in the doorway.

“Emmett conjectures that Ted met somebody because he heard compromising words over the phone yesterday,” Vic replied. 

Michael rolled his eyes. “Em, you have to stop thinking every trick is a candidate for marriage.”

“I don’t think that!” Emmett exclaimed. Vic and Michael stared dubiously at him. “I don’t. I just hope Teddy _has_ met someone… he’s such a great guy, but he’s so unsure of himself.”

“Well, we can ask him later. Are you all packed, Uncle Vic?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, I am. Why?”

“’Cause I’m driving you home,” Michael took out car keys from his pocket and showed them to Vic.

“I though Brian was coming,” Emmett said, confused. He was pretty sure that’s what they’d agreed on the previous night. 

“He was, but he forgot he had a final exam today, so he gave me the Jeep,” Michael explained.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. Even though the poor car is old and beat up, Brian loves it like crazy. He’ll kill you if something happens to it,” Vic said, standing up. Emmett grabbed his bag. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Uncle Vic. Let me go tell the nurse we’re leaving.” Michael left the room for a moment and returned with a nurse and a wheelchair. “You need to leave in a wheelchair, remember?”

Vic groaned. “Oh, I hate that part. It makes me feel like such an invalid.” He sat down on the chair.

“You take care now, Mr. Grassi. We don’t want to see you back in a while,” the nurse admonished.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want to be back either,” Vic smiled. 

They arrived to Debbie’s house quickly, and Michael settled Vic on the couch, fussing over him, turning on the TV and giving him blankets, while Emmett busied himself in the kitchen.

“Michael, stop! You’re worse than your mother,” Vic complained. Emmett chuckled, not looking up from the cheese he was slicing. Michael and Debbie were seriously scary when they started on the mother-hen mode. Even worse than his Aunt Lula. 

Michael sighed and sat down next to Vic. “I’m sorry. I was just worried, and I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You and me both.”

Emmett came out of the kitchen carrying two plates. “I made some sandwiches, boys.” He handed them the plates and sat down on the chair across from the couch. 

Michael bit into his, and with his mouth full, said, “This is great, Em, thanks!”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

Vic started eating his own sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “What did you put in it, to make it taste like this?”

“A bit of honey and mustard, and a few poppy seeds,” Emmett replied.

“So you like cooking?” Vic asked.

“Oh, sure! I love it. My Aunt Lula spent years with me, teaching me all her recipes,” Emmett smiled wistfully. 

“Why didn’t you go to cooking school, or something?” Vic inquired.

Emmett shrugged. “I don’t know. My life plan was to leave Hazelhurst, I didn’t really think much further than that.” When the postman spits at you, and every person in town either throws lit matches at you, or pretends you don’t exist, then getting out is pretty much the only dream that can occupy your thoughts. 

Vic looked at Emmett speculatively for a moment. “Emmett, what would you say if I told you we should set up a catering business together?” he finally asked.

“A catering business?” Emmett squeaked. “I – I’d be happier than a drag queen on Pride, Vic!” 

God, catering. Planning fabulous parties, menus, decorations… it would be absolutely perfect. So much better than selling sequined pants and mesh neon t-shirts. 

Vic grinned. “Excellent. We’ll need to experiment first, try out recipes. But when we’re ready, we can start looking for clientele.”

“Wonderful!” Emmett beamed.

A soccer game came on the TV, and Michael was about to change the channel when he frowned. 

“Something important was happening soon, something to do with soccer,” he muttered. “Oh! Oh, yeah! Tomorrow is Brian’s final soccer game!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, Brian playing soccer must be a wonderful thing to watch. With the shorts, and the sweat, and all the other hot guys running around,” Emmett mused, already picturing the very alluring image in his head. Vic grinned and nodded.

“Well, why don’t you come with me to see him play tomorrow?” Michael asked. 

“You know, I think I will. Do you think I should make a banner? I could decorate it with a bit of glitter and-”

“Uh, I don’t think Brian would appreciate a glittery banner too much,” Vic interrupted Emmett’s rambling. 

“You’re right. Glitter is so last season,” Emmett agreed. 

+

The following day, Emmett and Michael woke up early and headed to Carnegie Mellon University. They’d invited Ted to the soccer game, too, but Ted couldn’t get out of work because a client had a small crisis and the firm needed every accountant in for the day. Emmett wondered how boring your life had to get if you actually had an accounting crisis. 

They arrived at the campus, and made their way to the soccer pitch. Michael directed his steps to the side of the bleachers which was fuller.

“Michael, why don’t we sit over there?” Emmett pointed to a place where there were less people.

“’Cause that’s were the supporters of the other team are sitting, Em,” Michael explained.

“Michael! Emmett! Over here!” They looked up to see Lindsay waving to them. They smiled and climbed up to her side.

“Hi, guys!” she greeted them. Emmett hugged her hello.

“Hi, Linds,” Michael gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Where’s Justin?” 

Lindsay blushed. “Um, he’s, uh – with Brian.” 

“Why? Is Brian alright?” Michael asked, a touch of worry in his voice.

“Yes, yes,” Lindsay quickly assured him. “Brian said he needed to relax before the game, so he and Justin, um, they’re-”

“Having sex?” Emmett guessed, really, really hoping he was right.

“Yeah,” Lindsay breathed out. 

“Finally,” Emmett and Michael said at the same time. 

“Well, I’m gonna go get a doughnut. Anybody want something?” Michael asked, standing up.  
Emmett and Lindsay shook their heads. Emmett saw Michael make his way down, and suddenly trip, right into the arms of a hunky looking guy. Michael blushed, and the guy smiled. They talked for a few minutes, and Emmett was happy to see they went to get a doughnut together.

“What are you staring at, Em?” Emmett turned to see Justin standing next to him, looking rather disheveled but very happy. Sex with Brian seemed to agree with him, not that it wouldn’t with anyone on Earth, really.

“Hi, sweetie! I was just looking at Michael making an acquaintance,” Emmett replied. “How’s Brian? Nice and relaxed?”

Justin gave him a shit-eating grin. “Oh, yeah.”

A whistle sounded, and a voice announced, “Ladies and gentleman, the game is about to start. Let’s give a warm welcome to the Brown University team!”

“Booo!” Emmett called out. Lindsay and Justin laughed, but booed the team as well.

“And raise your voices for the CMU soccer team!”

“Yeah! Go CMU! Go Brian!” Emmett, Lindsay and Justin cheered. Michael ran up the bleachers, breathing heavily. 

“Got lost on the way to the doughnut stand?” Emmett asked. 

“Um…”

“I saw the hottie you tripped on to, baby, I would’ve gotten lost too,” Emmett assured Michael, who blushed.

“Look, there’s Brian!” Lindsay pointed. 

Emmett had been right, Brian looked simply delicious in his soccer uniform. Who knew the boy had those legs! The starting whistle blew, and the game began. It was fast and pretty furious right from the start, Emmett kept cringing at the falls the players were taking. 

“I thought football was meant to be the vicious sport,” he told Justin. 

Justin nodded. “I know. But Brian says soccer is just as dirty, only, the players have to be dirty when the ref isn’t looking.”

Emmett saw Brian running fast with the ball, and noticed two Brown players heading his way. One of them tried to steal the ball, but instead of kicking the ball he kicked Brian, and sent him flying. 

“Oh, no! Poor baby, is he okay?”

Justin gripped Emmett’s hand hard, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when Brian stood up without help, and walked to yell at the referee with only the slightest hint of a limp. The referee kept nodding at what Brian was saying, and finally, took out a yellow card to show it to the guy who’d tripped Brian.

“What does that mean?” Emmett asked Justin. 

“It means he fouled Brian, and if he does something like that again, he’ll get another yellow card. After two yellow cards, or after a really bad infraction, you get a red card and you’re expelled,” Justin explained. 

The game went on without either of the teams getting the upper hand, and half-time was called. Justin and Emmett sat down, and Emmett said, “You know, this soccer thing is just too much for my nerves.” 

It was just awful to see hot guys get mauled up like that, for no better reason than chasing a ball around a field… now, if they were getting bruised for another reason, it’d be a different, and orgasm-inducing, story. 

“I’m going to go get lemonade, do you guys want something?” Lindsay asked. 

“No thanks, sweetie,” Emmett told her. 

“Um, I’d love some coffee,” Justin said. Lindsay nodded. 

“Hey, where’s Michael?” Emmett asked, looking around. Justin shrugged, but started looking around too.

“There he is!” Justin pointed to another place in the bleachers. Michael was talking to the hunky guy again, and after a moment, both Michael and the hunky guy headed to where Emmett and Justin were seated.

“Guys, I’d like you to meet someone. This is Ben,” Michael introduced. “Ben, these are two of my friends, Emmett and Justin.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Ben said, smiling. 

Emmett was hard-pressed to keep his mouth closed. The guy was gorgeous! A bit too muscle bound for him, but he had lovely eyes, and a wonderful smile.

“Hi!” Justin and Emmett greeted him. “Um, sit down,” Justin said, moving out of the way so Ben and Michael could pass. 

He then looked at Emmett, and they exchanged silly grins. Lindsay came back, carrying her lemonade and Justin’s coffee, and she eyed Ben wonderingly. The whistle sounded, announcing half time was over and the game was starting once more. 

Within a few minutes, Brown had scored, making all the CMU fans groan. Emmett could see Brian yelling at his teammates, directing them around the field. Brian got the ball back from the opposing team and kicked it to one of his teammates, who scored. 

“Yes!” Justin exclaimed. The teams were now even, and playing more furiously. Suddenly, Brian was running toward the goal again, and with a powerful kick, he scored. “Go, Brian!” they all yelled. 

“That guy is really good,” a girl in seating in front of them said. “What’s his name?”

“Brian Kinney,” her companion replied. “And soccer’s not the only thing he’s good at,” he added, innuendo dripping from his voice.

Lindsay, Emmett, Justin and Michael rolled their eyes. Was there a remotely good looking guy on campus Brian _hadn’t_ fucked? 

“Is he a senior?” the girl inquired.

“Yeah, he’s about to graduate. He was actually in a few of my classes; he’s a Marketing and Advertising major, too. He’s a fucking talented bastard,” the guy replied, bitterness clear in his voice. 

The girl chuckled. “Jealous, much?”

“Well, I mean, the guy has offers from three different agencies, all top notch. He has two from agencies here in Pittsburgh, and one from an agency in New York. Fucking New York! Lucky asshole,” the guy grumbled. 

Lindsay and Michael turned to look at Justin, dumbfounded. “New York?” Michael asked.

Justin shrugged, and Emmett saw he was trying to hide the hurt he was feeling. “I – I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me he got an offer from a New York agency.”

“Do you think he’ll take it?” Lindsay asked.

“New York’s always been his dream,” Michael said softly. Justin nodded sadly. 

“Kinney scores again for CMU!” the announcer exclaimed. 

Emmett glanced down at the field, and saw Brian’s team celebrating the goal, Brian raising a victorious arm. He wondered just how many hearts would be broken if Brian took the job in New York.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Brian, I can’t believe you didn’t study!” Lindsay was horrified.

Brian shrugged. “I was busy. And, anyway, apparently my brain retained some of the lectures, because I didn’t have much trouble answering.”

Lindsay huffed. “Typical. You had sex instead of studying, and you’re going to get an A.”

“It’s a great technique. You should try it sometime. Why don’t you ask Melanie to help you?”

“Melanie is just a friend, Brian,” Lindsay said.

“Yeah, right, and Elton John’s not gay,” Brian rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you just get over yourself and have a nice muncher fest with her?”

“I just want to take it slow. I really like her, and I don’t want-” Lindsay broke off, and sighed. Brian knew she was finally going to tell him, and herself, the truth. Lindsay loved to talk around and around many things, but she was good at facing shit when she talked to Brian, ‘cause he never bought her bull. “She’s more experienced than I am, Brian. What if I’m not, you know, good for her?”

Brian tried hard not to gag. He couldn’t believe he was being asked to give Lindsay sex advice. Fucking hell. “Linds, just go for it. Everyone is different. Instead of being all embarrassed and fucking frigid, have sex with her and learn a few moves. Don’t worry so fucking much.”

“Mr. Kinney!” Mrs. Kingston, his career counselor, called out. 

“Catch you later, Linds,” Brian said, and headed to where Mrs. Kingston was standing. “What’s up, Mrs. K?”

“There are two gentleman here to see you, from the Kennett, Johnson & Keller agency,” Mrs. Kingston said, ushering Brian into her office. Two men in suits stood up the moment Brian entered. “Gentlemen, this is Brian Kinney. Um, I’ll leave you three alone to talk.”

“Hello, Mr. Kinney. My name is Andrew Gibson,” one of the men greeted, extending a hand for Brian to shake. “This is Lorne Matthews,” he gestured to the other guy.

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Okay. So, why are you here?”

“We’re here because we’d like to offer you a job,” Mr. Gibson said. “We’d like you to become a part of our agency. I assume you’ve heard of Kennett, Johnson & Keller?”

Brian rolled his eyes. He was a goddamned Advertising major, did these guys think he was an idiot, or something? “Sure, who hasn’t? It’s one of the up and coming firms in New York.”

“Exactly. We want to be the best, and in order to do that, we want to have the best. You sent a job application a few months ago, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, but I never heard back, so I figured you weren’t interested,” Brian replied.

“Well, we’ve been checking up on you, Mr. Kinney, and we’re very interested. You’re graduating at the top of your class, Cum Laude, and you’ve been doing a hell of a job as an intern in Ryder.”

“So what are you offering? What’s the job?”

“Well, you’d start as an assistant to a junior account executive.” Mr. Gibson noticed Brian’s frown, and quickly added, “Someone with your talent will certainly be promoted quickly, however. We always reward good work.” 

“And what about salary? I’d need something decent to live in New York City,” Brian remarked.

Mr. Gibson gestured to Mr. Matthews, who handed Brian a small piece of paper. After Brian read it, Mr. Gibson said, “That’s what we’re prepared to offer you.”

Brian was quiet for a moment, and then he stood up. “Well, thanks. I’ll think about it.”

The two men stood up as well. “You do that. Let me know what you’ve decided, and call me,” Mr. Gibson said, handing Brian a card. “This is the opportunity of a life-time, Mr. Kinney. Not many people get a job offer from a Madison Avenue agency straight out of college. Don’t waste it.”

Brian nodded, and left. He walked aimlessly around campus, thinking about what to do. New York. New York was calling. Fuck. Exactly what he’d wanted since he started school. Should he say yes? He should. He really, really should. The question was, did he want to?

He glanced down at his watch and noticed he was about to be late for soccer practice. “Shit.” He ran in the direction of the soccer field, hoping an hour and a half of running around would help clear his mind.

+

After practice was over, Brian headed to Ryder. 

He needed to talk to Mr. Ryder himself, tell him about the offer. Ryder had been incredibly good to Brian, had really given him a chance to get involved, and Brian had actually learned and worked throughout his internship, unlike many of his classmates. He headed to Ryder’s office when he arrived to the agency.

“Do you think I could talk to Mr. Ryder?” he asked the secretary. She glanced down at the calendar for the day, and then clicked on the speaker phone.

_“Yes?”_

“Mr. Ryder, Brian Kinney would like to see you,” the secretary said.

_“Send him in.”_

Brian walked into the office slowly, stopping in front of Marty Ryder’s desk. The man looked up from a board he was looking at, and he held it out to Brian. 

“Something isn’t working, but I can’t figure out what. What do you think, Kinney?”

Brian looked at the board for a moment. “The font size is too small. And it would work better in Century Gothic.”

Ryder looked at the board again, and nodded, smiling. “You’re right. Good eye.” He wrote the changes down on the board. “So, what can I do for you?”

Brian took a deep breath. “Well, Mr. Ryder, as you know, I’m graduating soon. I really appreciate the job offer you extended to me, and considering how good you’ve been to me, I think it’s only fair to let you know that I’ve gotten other offers, too.”

Mr. Ryder grinned. “Well, of course you have. You’re very talented, I expected nothing less. If I recall correctly, you have an offer from Winston Advertising here in Pittsburgh, and one from Kennett, Johnson & Keller in New York, right?”

Brian’s eyes widened. “How do you-”

“Brian, don’t think I haven’t noticed just how great your work is. I think everything Anderson has pitched me and tried to pass off as his for six months has been your work. I’ve kept a few tabs on you, because I knew you’d get these offers,” Ryder started looking through some of the papers, “I knew that to keep you here, I’d have to offer something good. So here it is,” he handed a contract to Brian. “You’d start as a junior account executive, rather than an assistant. As you can see, the salary is very generous,” he leaned closer to Brian. “And, as an added incentive which we’d have to keep between us both, you’d also get a company car. I hear you’re partial to black Jeeps?”

Brian had trouble breathing. “Mr. Ryder, this is… this is amazing.”

“Oh, don’t think I’m being too generous. I’ll make you work for every single cent,” Ryder winked. “You have great talent, Brian. You’re not the best, not yet. You need to gain experience, to know how to talk and read the client. That’ll come with time. So, what do you say?”

Brian looked out the window for a second. New York had always been his dream, for as long as he could remember. He knew he could make it, he knew he could conquer the city. Yet, there were things New York didn’t have, things the Big Apple could never give Brian. No loud, overbearing women who’d mother him and scold him; no friend to pretend he was a comic book hero, no lesbian to be the sister he wished he had. And no Justin. 

He took the pen Ryder was offering, and signed the contract.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Brian couldn’t believe it. They won! They beat Brown! His team was jumping up and down, carrying him on their shoulders.

“Captain! Captain!” Brian held the golden cup aloft, and the cheers from the CMU fans resounded around the field. 

Inside the locker room, everyone was laughing, dancing, swatting each other with towels. Brian smiled, happy that they’d won, and very happy that his time playing soccer was finally over. However, he felt just a bit of sadness. He’d miss his team. He thought he might even miss coach Jenkins

“Now, now, girlies, stop acting like queers,” Coach Jenkins yelled as he entered the locker room.

Brian rolled his eyes. He _wouldn’t_ miss Jenkins. 

He walked out with the rest of the team, looking for Lindsay and Justin. He spotted them, standing around with Michael, Emmett and a guy he was pretty sure he fucked a while ago. He’d been pretty hot.

“Hey,” he greeted them, when he made it to where they stood.

Michael glared at Brian, and slapped him. Brian put a hand over his burning cheek. “Ow! What the fuck was that for?” Seriously, a slap? Not the greatest way to greet the winning captain. 

“For not telling us you were moving to New York, asshole!” Michael yelled. 

“Who the fuck said I was moving to New York?” Brian asked, taken aback.

“We – we heard you got a job offer from an agency there,” Lindsay said softly, and Brian could see she’d been about to cry. 

He then looked at Justin, and immediately noticed the hint of disappointment and betrayal in his eyes.

“So? Doesn’t mean I took it, does it?” Brian shrugged. Fuck, would it kill them to talk to him before jumping to conclusions? Fucking drama queens. 

“So you’re staying here?” Emmett asked.

“Yeah. Ryder gave me a hell of an offer, and a new Jeep,” Brian grinned. Justin quickly walked right up to Brian, and after looking into his eyes for a moment, launched himself into his arms. “Whoa, there, Sunshine. Okay?”

“Fuck you,” came Justin’s muffled reply. 

Brian chuckled. “Maybe later.”

Justin looked up again, and raised his chin slightly to kiss Brian. 

“Oh, yay!” Brian looked up from the kiss to see Emmett clapping like a retarded seal. 

“I’m glad you’re staying,” Justin whispered. 

Brian looked back down at him, and smiled back. He was glad he was staying, too.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Where the fuck is that asshole?” Debbie asked, shifting nervously in her seat.

Michael shrugged, trying to look unconcerned, but truth be told he was just as worried as his mother. Brian’s graduation ceremony was due to start any minute, and Brian was nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe he has pre-show jitters?” Emmett suggested with an unconvincing grin.

“It’s a graduation, not a show, Em,” Ted rolled his eyes.

“You know Brian, he likes to make an entrance. I’m sure he’ll show up at the last possible minute,” Vic said, trying to be the voice of reason.

“I can’t believe he’s graduating,” Lindsay said, shaking her head. “It seems like yesterday when I met him for the first time.”

“How did you meet him?” Daphne asked her.

“Well, he came into my ‘Art of the Stone Age’ class and sat next to me. He was probably the best looking guy I’d ever seen, so I offered him a bite of my Veggie Wrap,” Lindsay reminisced. 

“A Veggie Wrap? Really? Wow, does that actually work?” Daphne wrinkled her nose.

“Clearly not, since Brian is very gay and Lindsay very lesbian,” Ted replied. Emmett snorted. 

“Please welcome the graduates, the Class of 2007!” 

Everyone clapped as the graduates filed past, taking their seats. Michael felt a momentary pang of regret, seeing the students in togas and wearing those ridiculous looking hats. He’d never get go upstage and get a diploma, he’d never throw a possibly eye-stabbing hat in the air. He’d made his choice. With a sad smile, he told himself to let it go. A different choice didn’t mean it was a bad one; it just meant a different path. 

“Do you see him?” Debbie tried to whisper. She was unsuccessful, since a man in front of her turned to shush her. She gave him the finger.

“No, I don’t see him,” Michael said, straining his neck to try and find Brian in the crowd of students.

The ceremony went by slowly, with the speeches and the clapping, and the students parading up the stage to get their diplomas. 

“What happens if Brian doesn’t go upstage? Does he still get his diploma?” Emmett asked Ted worriedly.

“Yeah, they actually mail your actual diploma later,” Ted assured him. 

“Now, we’ve had some outstanding students,” the Master of Ceremonies started. “So I’d like all of you to give a big hand to those who distinguished themselves semester after semester. Anna Emerson, graduating with honors.” The crowd cheered and clapped as Anna Emerson went upstage to get her diploma. “And Brian Kinney, graduating Cum Laude!” The gang actually stood up to clap and cheer, as did the rest of the audience. “Brian Kinney, could you come upstage, please?” The crowd kept on clapping, but after a few minutes it was clear that Brian Kinney wouldn’t in fact go upstage, because he wasn’t with the rest of his class. 

The ceremony finished, the graduates threw their hats up in the air and everyone started leaving. 

Suddenly, Daphne started laughing, and everyone turned to look at her questioningly. “Look!” 

She pointed to the entrance to the building, and they all turned to see Brian and Justin walking inside. Brian had his toga half off, and they could see his shirt underneath buttoned up the wrong way. Justin was wearing a sweater from the inside out, and his hair was in absolute disarray. They walked up to the gang, smiling.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You missed your graduation ceremony because you were fucking Justin?” Debbie exclaimed.

Justin had the decency to blush, but Brian just smirked. “Well, Deb, sometimes a fag’s gotta do who a fag’s gotta do.”

+

Michael was walking back to the parking lot with Ted and Emmett, since he planned to hitch a ride with them to his mom’s house. They were having a surprise graduation party for Brian which wasn’t a surprise any longer, thanks to Michael himself, and his tendency to blurt out anything he was supposed to keep a secret.

“Michael!” someone called out. 

Michael stopped and turned, surprised to see Ben running toward him. From the corner of his eye he could see Emmett and Ted nudging each other. Emmett seemed to be arguing with Ted about staying, but Ted led him away by the arm.

“Hi, Ben. How are you?” Michael greeted him.

“I’m good, thank you,” Ben smiled. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, um, my friend Brian just graduated,” Michael replied, pointing to a tree where Brian was busy making out with Justin. 

Ben grinned. “He seems to be in a very celebratory mood.”

“You could say that. Though I don’t know when he isn’t in that particular celebratory mood,” Michal laughed. 

“So, uh, I was thinking,” Ben started. He bit his lip, and continued, “I wondered if you’d like to go out with me, or something.”

Michael was silent for a moment. Was he ready, after David? There was something in Ben that drew him, in a way David never had. “I’d love to,” he finally replied, and Ben gave him a relieved smile. “Hey, are you busy right now?”

“Right now? No, why?”

“Well, we’re having a non-surprise surprise party for Brian at my mom’s house. Would you like to come?” 

Ben cocked his head. “A non-surprise surprise party?” he inquired.

“I sort of ruined the surprise part,” Michael explained. 

“Well, I’d love to. But isn’t it a family occasion, or something?”

Michael shrugged. “For my mom, the more people to eat, the better.”

“Well, okay then. Let’s go,” Ben smiled, holding a hand out for Michael to take it. Michael did, and as they walked hand in hand to the parking lot, ignoring Emmett’s cooing sounds, Michael felt that something truly wonderful had just begun.

+

“Fuck, Brian, I can’t believe I made you miss your graduation ceremony!” Justin exclaimed, when they finally made it to the Jeep. 

“You didn’t make me, Sunshine. Your powers of seduction are strong indeed, but I do believe my dick had a hand in the missing of the ceremony,” Brian said, tongue in cheek. He placed the key in the ignition and turned it, but the engine shuddered and died. Brian sighed, and tried again. “C’me on, darling,” he muttered.

“You really, really need a new car,” Justin pointed out. 

“I’m getting a new one, compliments of Ryder, but I really wanted to finish school with this one,” Brian said. He tried turning the key again, “C’m ooon.”

“You know, I don’t think the engine can be sweet-talked into working.”

Brian didn’t answer, just turned the key again and said, “C’me the fuck on, you motherfuckin’ piece of tin! Start, you asshole!” The engine sputtered to life, and the car started. Justin looked at Brian with surprise written over his features, and Brian shrugged. “I think the Jeep’s into BDSM. It likes to be abused.”

“Brian, you are so fucking weird,” Justin said wonderingly. 

“Says the guy who once wrote a love letter to Michelangelo’s David,” Brian smirked. 

Justin started laughing, and punched him on the arm. “Fuck you, I told you that in strictest high-on-E confidence!”

“Don’t worry, Sunshine. Your secret’s safe with me,” he gave Justin a small grin. “Lucky for you, I’m as fucking weird as you.”

They made it to Debbie’s house, and before they rang the doorbell, Justin turned to Brian. “Try to act surprised, okay?”

Brian rolled his eyes. 

“Brian, just try!” Justin gave him a speculative look, and leaned in to whisper, “If you act properly surprised, I’ll give you a blowjob in the bathroom.”

The moment the door opened and everyone inside yelled, “Surprise!” Brian pretended to be shocked, endeared, and assured everyone that he had “No fucking idea, you sneaky fuckers.” 

Daphne rolled her eyes, and asked, “So how many blowjobs did Justin promise you to act surprised?”

“How many? Hmmm, good idea, Daph, thank you,” Brian said, and turned to yell, “Justin! Your dearest friend just upped my reward!”

Justin gave Brian the finger, but didn’t stop talking to Emmett. 

“Congratulations, Brian. I don’t know if you remember me.” 

Brian looked at the guy talking to him for a moment, and then smirked. “Sure. Ben, right?”

Ben smiled. “Yep. So, uh, listen-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Michael I fucked his new beau. It was a while ago, anyway, and I say it’s best to leave the past in the past.”

Ben nodded, clearly relieved. “Thanks, Brian, I appreciate that. I might tell him, just. Not yet.” He looked in Michael’s direction, and Brian could see how much Ben liked his friend. He was glad. Ben was a good guy, and Mikey deserved the best. “Hey, so I heard you got a pretty good job offer,” Ben said, changing the subject.

“Yeah, it’s really good,” Brian agreed. “How about you, you’re graduating soon too, right?”

“I am. Actually, I think I might stay on, teach. I’ve loved being a T.A.,” Ben replied. 

Brian made a face. “Well, better you than me, Professor.”

“Brian, where’s your plate? I don’t see you eating!” Debbie interrupted, shaking a finger in Brian’s face. 

“Deb-”

“Don’t you “Deb” me, mister! Come with me, let’s go get some lasagna,” Debbie took Brian by the hand and sat him down on a chair. She loaded a plate with lasagna, salad and garlic bread, and handed it to him. “And you eat all of it, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” With a sigh, Brian started eating.

“Hey, Bri, mind if I join you?” Ted asked, pulling out a chair. 

“Free country,” Brian said, waving a hand. Ted started chattering unceasingly, but Brian wasn’t really listening. Suddenly, a shadow fell across his eyes, and he felt a blindfold being tied around his head. He yelped, and cringed internally because he was pretty certain he’d just yelled like a fucking girl. “What the fuck are you doing? Fuck you, Theodore, you were distracting me!”

A voice by his left said, “We would’ve had Justin distract you, but you guys would’ve taken too long fucking.”

Brian was led out of his seat, and he walked clumsily. “If I trip and die, I’ll kill you all!” They stopped, and something was pushed into his hand. The blindfold was unknotted, and as it fell from his eyes, he blinked quickly to get used to the light. “That was not amusing,” he told everyone who was grinning stupidly.

“Well, look what we gave you!” Debbie gestured to his hand.

Brian looked down at the envelope he was holding. He opened it, and four plane tickets fell out. They were from Pittsburgh to New York and back. “What – why?” he asked, confused.

“We figured you deserved a real vacation, and since you aren’t moving to New York, we wanted you to enjoy it for a while, anyway, so we all pitched in,” Michael explained. “You also have hotel reservations, and I’m sure Justin can take care of the alternate entertainment. Congratulations, Brian.”

Brian looked around his smiling friends, his family. “Thank you,” he whispered. Lindsay and Michael immediately went to him and hugged him, and he hugged them back. “Thank you.”

Eventually, Debbie made everyone have dessert, and forced Brian to sit on the couch and eat his cake. 

“Brian, sweetie, what do you say if we go to Babylon tonight, to celebrate properly?” Emmett bounded up next to him, and took a seat on one side of him.

“Sure,” Brian answered. 

“Sure what?” Lindsay asked, sitting on the other side.

“We’re going to Babylon tonight, to celebrate,” Ted replied.

“Oh, can I come too? I haven’t gone dancing with Mel yet,” Lindsay smiled.

Brian, Emmett and Ted made a face. “Fine, you can come. Maybe dancing with her will lead to having sex, and you can stop pouting and asking me for lesbian sex advice.”

“Brian!” Lindsay exclaimed, while Emmett and Ted snickered. 

“Are you being bad, Mr. Kinney?” Justin asked, and sat on Brian’s lap. 

“Me, bad?” Brian raised his eyebrows. “Never. I’m nice.”

Justin smiled. “Oh, you’re many things, but nice isn’t one I’d call you.”

“No?” Brian put a hand behind Justin’s neck, and brought his head down to kiss him. “What would you call me, then?” Brian breathed against Justin’s lips. 

“Um, bathroom,” Justin moaned.

“Bathroom? That’s not an exactly loving moniker, Sunshine,” Brian admonished, and leaned in to kiss Justin again.

“No, no. I mean, you and me, to the bathroom, now,” Justin whispered urgently. 

Brian stood up, taking Justin with him, ignoring Michael’s yell of, “Don’t you dare fuck in my room, Brian!”

Once inside the bathroom, Justin started kissing Brian, but Brian pushed him back. “Sure you wouldn’t rather have someone nice?”

“Fuck nice,” Justin declared, and started kissing Brian again.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Justin and Brian entered Babylon together, and Justin smiled at the old thumpa-thumpa, the gyrating and sweating bodies on the dance floor.

They made their way to the bar, and ordered two shots of Beam. Michael, Ben, Emmett, Ted, Daphne, Lindsay and Melanie soon joined them, and they all made toasts to Brian, who rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed. Justin could see he was secretly pleased. 

“Let’s dance,” Brian whispered into Justin’s ear, and Justin nodded, leading the way to the dance floor.

The whole gang followed them, and Justin had to laugh when he saw Daphne and Emmett doing the ‘Praise Jesus’ move. 

“Look like Ted’s got himself someone,” he pointed out to Brian, and they both turned to see Ted with a cute blond twink.

“Glad to see Theodore grew some balls,” Brian said. “But I think that guy’s a crystal queen.”

“Shit,” Justin muttered.

“He’s gotta learn on his own,” Brian shrugged. 

They kept on dancing, their bodies moving to the beat, and when the song changed, Brian pressed Justin close to his body. Justin kissed Brian’s neck, and put his arms around Brian’s strong shoulders. Glitter started falling, and Justin laughed. 

He couldn’t believe he was finally here with Brian, in the way he’d always wanted to be. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Brian was a stubborn asshole and Justin was prone to queening out, and they were going to fight, and yell, and want to kill each other. But it would be worth it, and they’d stick it out, because they were finally together. Justin had known Brian was it since the moment he first saw him, and there was no way he was ever letting go.

Brian’s arms tightened around Justin’s waist. Justin smiled, and leaned up to kiss Brian. 

Neither of them were ever letting go.


End file.
